2RfiL*&v5 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

Landscape  Architecture 
Library 

GIFT  OF 

Frederick  Law  Olmsted 
the  Younger 


•Knickerbocker  Iftuggets 


SET—"  A  diminutive  mass  of  precious  metal 


32  VOLS.  NOW  READY 
For  full  list  see  end  of  this  volume 


THE  GARDEN 

CONSIDERED  IN  LITER  A  TURE  BY  CERTAIN 
POLITE  WRITERS 


WITH  A   CRITICAL  ESS  A  Y  BY 

WALTER  HOWE 


NEW   YORK  AND    LONDON 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 
Ube  Tknfcfeerbocfeer  press 


COPYRIGHT,  1890 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


c 

GIFT 

£){  : 


Ube  Tknfcfcerbocfcer  press,  Ifcew  J^orfe 

Electrotyped,  Printed,  and  Bound  by 
G.   P.  Putnam's  Sons 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 


LANDSCAPE 
ARCH,      t 

LIBRARY 


PAGE 
I 


THE 
THE  PLEASURES  OF  THE  GARDEN 


PUNY  THE:  YOUNGER. 

VILLA  IVAURENTINA    . 
VILLA  IN  TUSCULUM  . 


•  39 

•  48 


I^ORD  BACON. 
OF  GARDENS 


61 


SIR  WILLIAM 

UPON   THE   GARDENS   OF   EPICURUS  ;    OR,    OP 
GARDENING  IN  THE  YEAR  1685       .  .    71 


THE  SPECTATOR. 
JOSEPH  ADDISON 
POPE  OR  DR.  PARNELL 
JOSEPH  ADDISON 


133 
•  139 
.  148 


THE  GUARDIAN. 
ALEXANDER  POPE 


155 


M852187 


Contents 


JvADY  MARY  WORTI^Y  MONTAGUE. 

BETTERS  TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BUTE   .     .    .163 

THOMAS  WHATEXY. 

OBSERVATIONS  ON  MODERN  GARDENING      .        .175 

OUVEJR  GOLDSMITH. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  A  CHINESE  GARDEN    .        .        .216 
THE  HISTORY  OF  A  POET'S  GARDEN  .       .221 

HORACE  WAI,POI,E. 

BIOGRAPHICAL  ACCOUNT  OF  WILLIAM  KENT       .  228 
THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  MODERN  TASTE  IN  GAR- 
DENING  .........  236 


JOHN 

OF  FENCES  AND  QUICKSETS      .....  282 


INTRODUCTION. 

TO  all  who  are  fond  of  gardens  and  garden- 
ing, and  who  take  a  certain  pleasure  in 
enjoying  nature,  when  treated  by  man  as  a 
work  of  art,  the  following  essays  and  selections 
from  some  of  the  masters  of  ancient  and  mod- 
ern letters  are  offered  in  a  form  where  they 
may  be  conveniently  read  and  enjoyed. 

Some  are  old  friends,  others  are  less  familiar, 
and  one  or  two  may  be  quite  unknown  to  most 
readers  of  this  generation. 

Some  passages  have  been  introduced  partly 
for  that  gratification  which  elegant  writing  in 
prose  or  verse  always  excites,  although  they 
may  not  add  greatly  to  the  store  of  garden 
lore.  Certain  worthy  and  instructive  produc- 
tions, devoted  strictly  to  this  theme,  have  been 


Ifntrofcuctton 


excluded  for  an  obvious  dulness,  from  which 
the  undoubted  scholarship  of  their  authors  could 
not  redeem  them.  No  contemporary  writings 
have  been  inserted,  nor  indeed  any  written 
within  this  century,  though  most  of  the  masters 
of  English  prose  during  this  period  have  sung 
the  praises  of  the  garden. 

Wordsworth,  Scott,  Rogers,  Mitford,  Shelley, 
Ruskin  might  all  be  cited.  Bvery  one  must  re- 
call Leigh  Hunt's  delightful  plea  for  window 
gardening,  now  so  common  in  England,  possibly 
as  a  result  of  that  appeal ;  and  Charles  Lamb's 
account  of  the  "Temple  "  gardens  in  his  essay 
on  the  "  Old  Benchers"  ;  while  no  reader  of 
Disraeli  can  forget  the  sumptuous  descriptions 
of  the  parks  and  gardens  provided  for  his 
heroes  and  heroines  in  "  Contarini  Fleming," 
"Henrietta  Temple,"  "Lothair,"  and  the  rest 
of  those  dreamy  romances. 

Although  many  such  passages  seemed  to 
have  a  claim  to  admission  to  this  little  collec- 
tion, it  was  thought  best  to  keep  to  the  earlier 
writers,  whose  pages  at  all  events  may  claim 
that  esteem  which  may  be  due  to  their  anti- 


Untrofcuctfon 


quity,  as  the  "  Gentle  Isaak  "  so  naively  says 
of  his  milkmaid's  songs  : 

"  They  were  old-fashioned  poetry,  but 
choicely  good.  I  think  much  better  than  that 
now  in  fashion  in  this  critical  age." 

When  our  contemporaries  shall  be  ancient 
enough  to  have  acquired  this  classical  flavor,, 
the  collector  of  garden  literature  will  find  a 
rich  store  in  this  generation,  and  among  his 
choicest  selections  he  will  doubtless  preserve 
that  delightful  little  book  of  the  late  Mrs. 
Ewing,  "Mary's  Meadow,  and  Letters  from  a 
Little  Garden." 

But  whatever  may  be  said  of  what  is  not 
contained  herein,  it  is  hoped  that  what  is  may 
be  found  to  be  "  choicely  good." 

Here  we  may  tread  the  stately  alleys  and 
classic  shades  of  the  "  Villa  Lauren tina  "  with 
the  younger  Pliny,  or  enjoy  the  more  splendid 
though  less  costly  creation  of  Lord  Bacon's  im- 
agination, with  its  squares  on  squares,  parterres, 
and  mysterious  labyrinths,  glowing  with  flowers, 
and  rich  with  the  luscious  fruits  which  he  so 
bountifully  provides  for  every  month  in  the  year. 


Ifntrofcuction 


The  Essays  of  Walpole  and  Sir  William 
Temple  have  been  placed  side  and  side,  partly 
by  reason  of  their  charm  and  intrinsic  value, 
and  partly  because  they  may  be  regarded  as 
representative  arguments  for  the  natural  and 
the  artificial  schools  of  treatment  respectively. 
From  the  well  rounded  paragraphs  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam, the  reader  can  turn  directly  to  Walpole' s 
withering  review  of  their  doctrines  in  a  paper 
upon  which,  for  grace  and  brilliancy,  his  repu- 
tation might  be  rested. 

The  other  selections  need  no  special  refer- 
ence, but  all  are  interesting  as  a  mark  of  the 
claim  that  the  art  of  gardening  has  asserted 
over  minds  of  such  various  types. 

The  paper  of  Walpole  "  On  Modern  Garden- 
ing," and  the  creations  of  Kent,  to  which  it 
refers,  may  be  said  to  mark  an  era  in  the  his- 
tory of  landscape  art,  and  the  influence  of  this 
scholarly  essay  is  yet  seen,  impressed  upon  the 
features  of  many  an  English  park  and  garden. 

The  revival  of  classical  architecture  under  the 
Stuarts  and  the  advent  of  William  and  Mary 
with  their  train  of  Dutch  courtiers  had  con- 


fntrofcuctkm 


tinued  and  developed  that  artificial  school  of 
planting  which,  first  introduced  in  England 
as  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, reached  its  highest  expression  in  the 
Dutch  garden,  or,  as  it  is  now  more  commonly 
termed,  the  "  Italian  garden." 

This  style  of  treatment  was  not  unsuited  to 
the  straight  lines  and  formal  fafades  of  Inigo 
Jones,  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,  and  Sir  Christopher 
Wren,  and  within  proper  limits  may  even  now 
be  justified,  under  strict  canons  of  artistic 
propriety,  in  serving,  as  it  does,  to  break  and 
gradually  to  soften  the  outlines  of  the  mansion, 
and  to  form  a  connection  with  the  irregular  and 
unstudied  forms  of  meadow  and  forest  beyond. 

In  France  as  well,  the  dominance  of  the 
courts  of  Louis  Fourteenth  and  lyouis  Fifteenth, 
with  their  life  of  fashion  and  frivolity,  had  im- 
pressed their  tone  upon  the  domestic  life  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry.  The  feudal  castle 
had  given  place  to  the  classic  villa  and  tem- 
ple, and  Mansard  and  L,e  Notre  had  erected 
palaces  and  established  parks,  which  were 
later  to  be  the  model  and  the  despair  of  every 


IFntrofcuctton 


German  prince  and  baron,  and  are  still  admired 
for  their  noble  proportions  and  refined  details. 
The  owners  of  these  stately  chateaus,  how- 
ever, found  their  love  of  nature  easily  gratified 
in  an  afternoon  promenade  on  a  broad  stone 
terrace,  over  whose  carved  balustrade  they 
could  lazily  survey  the  artifices  of  these  mas- 
ters or  their  less  skilful  imitators. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  classicism,  men 
and  women  of  fashion  enjoyed  such  surround- 
ings rather  because  they  set  themselves  off  to 
advantage,  as  they  and  their  guests  posed  be- 
fore each  other  like  the  beauties  and  gallants 
of  Watteau.  They  carried  the  silks  and  satins 
of  the  salon  into  the  bowers  and  alleys  of  the 
garden,  and  it  was  fitting  that  they  should  pro- 
vide themselves  with  a  background  to  har- 
monize with  their  gowns  and  habits,  while 
their  newly  built  temples  and  villas  were  dis- 
played to  full  advantage.  A  somewhat  differ- 
ent explanation  by  H.  A.  Tame  of  the  motive 
shown  in  these  gardens  is  so  interesting  in  itself, 
that  the  reader  will  pardon  its  quotation  at 
length  in  this  place. 


Ifntrofcuction 


"Nothing  has  interested  me  more  in  these 
Roman  villas  than  their  former  masters.  As 
naturalists  are  aware,  one  obtains  a  pretty  good 
idea  of  an  animal  from  his  shell. 

"  The  place  where  I  began  to  comprehend  him 
is  the  Villa  Albani,  erected  in  the  eighteenth 
century  for  Cardinal  Alexander  Albani,  and  ac- 
cording to  his  own  plans.  What  you  at  once 
detect  here  is  the  grand  seigneur  courtier  after 
the  fashion  of  our  nobles  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. There  are  differences,  but  the  two  tastes 
are  kindred.  What  they  prize  above  all  things 
is  art  and  artistic  order ;  nothing  is  left  to  na- 
ture ;  all  is  artificial.  Water  flows  only  in  jets 
and  in  sprays,  and  has  no  other  bed  but  basins 
and  urns.  Grass-plots  are  enclosed  within 
enormous  box-hedges  higher  than  a  man's 
head  and  thick  as  walls,  and  are  shaped  in  geo- 
metric triangles,  the  points  of  which  terminate 
in  a  centre.  In  front  stretches  a  dense  palisade 
lined  with  small  cypresses.  You  ascend  from 
one  garden  to  another  by  broad  stone  steps 
similar  to  those  at  Versailles.  Flower  beds  are 
enclosed  in  little  frames  of  box  and  form  de- 


8  irntroDuctton 


signs  resembling  well-bordered  carpets,  regu- 
larly variegated  with  shades  of  color. 

"This  villa  is  a  fragment,  the  fossil  skeleton 
of  an  organism  that  lived  two  hundred  years, 
its  chief  pleasure  being  conversation,  fine  dis- 
play, and  the  manners  of  the  salon  and  the 
ante-chamber.  Man  was  not  then  interested  in 
animate  objects  ;  he  did  not  recognize  in  them 
a  spirit  and  beauty  of  their  own  ;  he  regarded 
them  simply  as  an  appendix  to  his  own  exist- 
ence ;  they  served  as  a  background  to  the  pic- 
ture, and  a  vague  one,  of  less  than  accessory 
importance. 

"His  attention  was  wholly  absorbed  by  the 
picture  itself — that  is  to  say,  by  its  human  drama 
and  intrigue.  In  order  to  divert  some  portion 
of  attention  to  trees,  water,  and  landscape,  it 
was  necessary  to  humanize  them,  to  deprive 
them  of  their  natural  forms  and  tendencies,  of 
their  savage  aspect,  of  a  disorderly  desert  air, 
and  to  endow  them  as  much  as  possible  with 
the  air  of  a  salon  or  a  colonnade  gallery,  or  a 
grand  palatial  court.  The  landscapes  of  Poussin 
and  Claude  L,orraine  all  bear  this  imprint. 


•ffntrofcucttott 


They  are  architectural  constructions  —  the 
scenery  is  painted  for  courtiers  who  wished  to 
re-instate  the  court  in  their  own  domain. 

"It  is  curious  in  this  aspect  to  compare  the 
island  of  Calypso  in  Homer  with  that  of  Pension. 
In  Homer  we  have  a  veritable  island,  wild  and 
rocky,  where  sea-birds  build  their  nests  and 
screech  ;  in  Fene*lon,  a  sort  of  Marly,  '  arranged 
to  please  the  eye.'  Thus  do  the  English  gardens 
as  now  imported  by  us  indicate  the  advent  of 
another  race,  the  reign  of  another  taste  and 
literature,  the  ascendency  of  another  mind, 
more  comprehensive,  more  solitary,  more  easily 
fatigued,  and  more  devoted  to  the  world  with- 
in."* 

The  Petit  Trianon  was  a  slight  protest 
against  the  sumptuous  splendor  of  the  Oran- 
gerie,  "The  Grand  Canal,"  the  basins  of  I^a- 
tona  and  of  Neptune,  and  the  superb  Tapis 
Vert,  with  its  bordering  groves  of  tortured 
trees  and  shrubs.  That  its  unhappy  mistress 
should  have  called  this  secluded  retreat  her 

*  H.  A.  Taine,  "Italy,  Rome,  and  Naples."  Transla- 
tion of  Durand. 


to  Ifntrofcuction 


"English  garden"  is  a  singular  indication  of 
the  rapid  spread  of  the  ideas  of  Kent ;  and,  al- 
though Jussieu,  who  as  early  as  1745  had  set 
out  many  of  the  trees,  and  Antoine  Richard,  the 
queen's  gardener,  may  not  have  read  the  enthu- 
siastic pages  of  Walpole,  they  were  clearly  in- 
fluenced by  what  they  well  understood  to  be  the 
English  taste  in  gardening  and  landscape  art. 

The  time  was  then  hardly  ripe  for  a  general 
reaction  against  the  excesses  of  the  artificialists, 
but  the  little  dairy  and  farm-yard,  the  wild 
growths  and  simple  farm-yard  of  Marie  An- 
toinette's retreat,  mark  the  real  beginning,  on 
the  Continent  at  least,  of  that  freer  and  broader 
treatment  of  nature  which  is  now  regarded  as 
the  underlying  principle  of  the  art. 

The  alternation  between  the  artificial  and  the 
natural  schools  represented  by  the  "  Italian 
garden  "  dn  one  hand,  and  the  "  English  gar- 
den," or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called  in  many  a 
charming  English  park,  the  "  American  gar- 
den," is  based  upon  fundamental  and  ever- 
existing  differences  in  taste  which  are  recur- 
ring in  other  domains  of  art,  as  in  the  varying 


fnttofcuctfon 


fashions  concerning  painting,  music,  and  the 
drama. 

One  generation  admires  strength  and  breadth ; 
the  next  loves  delicate  finish  and  nice  execution. 
At  one  time  nothing  can  be  too  realistic  for  the 
critics  of  the  day  ;  and  again  some  master-mind 
will  make  a  nation  of  idealists.  It  would  be  in- 
teresting, if  this  introduction  were  the  proper 
place,  in  following  out  this  comparison,  to  see 
how  far  these  corresponding  tastes  in  the  several 
arts  agreed  or  differed  at  designated  periods, — 
that  is,  whether  a  change  in  taste  as  to  painting 
was  coincident  with  a  similar  change  or  reaction 
in  music  and  the  drama.  That  there  is  some 
interdependence  in  this  aspect  among  the  sev- 
eral arts  is  doubtless  true  ;  it  certainly  is  true 
as  between  the  closely  allied  arts  of  architecture 
and  landscape  art. 

Mr.  Hamerton  has  recently  stated,  with  his 
usual  precision,  in  a  paper  on  "  JE^sthetics, " 
from  which  the  following  extract  is  made,  a 
philosophic  reason  for  these  changes  which  may 
well  be  applied  to  a  review  of  the  art  now 
under  discussion.  He  says  : 


12  1Tntrot>ucttcm 


"  An  element  which  enters  for  very  much  into 
our  aesthetic  appreciation  of  persons  and  things 
is  the  simple  liking  or  disliking  for  the  marks 
of  human  interference. 

"Many  minds  are  so  constituted  that  it  is  a 
positive  pleasure  to  them  to  see  that  human  ef- 
fort has  been  expended  upon  any  thing,  and  a 
sort  of  negative  pain  to  perceive  that  there  has 
been  no  such  human  operation.  This  is  quite 
independent  of  any  conception  of  beauty  ;  and 
yet  it  is  constantly  confounded  with  ideas  of 
beauty,  because  few  people  take  the  trouble  to 
analyze  the  causes  of  their  feelings. 

11  Since  the  rebellion  against  the  artificialism 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  rebellion  headed 
by  Rousseau  and  a  host  of  writers  and  painters 
down  to  our  own  times,  there  have  been  two 
distinct  parties,  which  may  be  called  the  natural- 
ists and  the  artificialists,  and  even  in  the  quiet 
intercourse  of  private  life,  where  there  is  not 
any  very  eager  partisanship  on  either  side,  we 
may  still  distinguish  the  people  who  in  a  more 
active  state  of  controversy  would  have  belonged 
to  one  party  or  the  other." 


Untrofcuctton  13 


The  application  of  this  general  observation 
to  landscape  art,  or  to  that  branch  of  it  which 
has  recently  been  well  styled  "  landscape  horti- 
culture," is  quite  obvious,  and  with  this  analy- 
sis of  the  causes  of  such  differences  in  taste  it  is 
easy  to  see  how  the  natural  system,  after  having 
received  such  an  impetus  under  Kent  and  Wai- 
pole,  should  have  almost  entirely  given  place  to 
its  rival  for  very  many  years,  and  almost  to  this 
very  day. 

The  mistake  should  not  be  made,  however,  by 
the  adherents  of  one  school  of  art  of  utterly  con- 
demning the  other.  However  commonplace 
this  caution  may  appear  as  to  music,  or,  as  Mr. 
Hamerton  applies  it,  to  painting,  it  is  really 
most  true  and  necessary  when  applied  to  the 
treatment  of  nature  herself.  There  are  elements 
of  truth  in  the  ideas  of  both  schools  which  in- 
telligent amateurs  and  professional  men  should 
cherish  and  utilize  whenever  and  wherever  cir- 
cumstances will  permit. 

It  is  true  that  the  refinements  and  frivolities 
of  the  Dutch  and  Italian  gardeners  led  to  the 
inevitable  reaction  to  simpler  methods, — to  a 


14  UntroDuctfon 


more  sincere  and  conscientious  pursuit  of 
nature  and  her  ways ;  but  no  one  who  has  en- 
joyed the  charm  of  the  villas  about  Rome  and 
Florence  when  at  their  best  can  deny  that  a 
certain  formality,  an  obvious  artifice,  lends  a 
grace  to  the  gardens  appurtenant  to  these  noble 
palaces. 

The  straight  terraces  of  the  Villa  Pamfili 
Doria,  the  delightful  walks  bordered  with 
azalea  and  camellia,  the  surrounding  groves  of 
pines,  firs,  and  sombre  cypresses  form  an  artis- 
tic whole,  which  should  relieve  Le  Notre  from 
the  oblivion  to  which  Walpole  consigned  him 
for  his  miserable  failure  with  St.  James'  Park. 
Bel  Respirio  the  Romans  call  this  lovely  spot 
where  the  refinement  of  the  artificial  foreground 
gives  the  highest  artistic  value  to  the  distant 
Campagna,  with  its  fringe  of  purple  hills. 

The  Florentine  villas  retain  their  ancient 
gardens  embellished  with  statues  and  the  tri- 
umphs of  topiarian  skill,  and  are  not  out  of 
harmony  with  the  scene,  but  the  modern 
Florentine  has  sought  fresh  fields,  green  pas- 
tures, and  wild  woods  by  the  banks  of  the  Arno, 


•ffntrofcuctfon  15 


and  finds  in  the  shady  walks  and  drives  of  the 
Casein e  that  relief  from  the  noise  and  dust  of 
the  town  which  a  park  constructed  according  to 
the  ideas  of  our  day  can  bring  even  within  the 
bounds  of  a  city. 

A  hundred  years  since,  the  Giardino  Jiusti 
captivated  Lady  Mary  Montague,  and  any 
traveller  to  Verona  who  will  now  take  the 
pains  to  climb  its  steep  paths  will  find  the 
same  charm  in  the  aged  cypresses,  ihe  oddly 
clipped  ilexes  and  boxes,  the  stiff  terraces  and 
narrow  and  now  overgrown  beds. 

They  are  the  same  old  cypresses,  shading 
the  same  old  broken-nosed  Roman  busts  and 
statues  that  Lady  Mary  saw  ;  but  now  more 
mouldy  and  weedy  and  ancient  with  an  added 
century  of  neglect.  Yet  an  old-time  flavor  of 
art  and  of  gentility  asserts  itself,  and  from 
under  their  sombre  shadows  the  splendid  pano- 
rama of  the  Alps,  the  valleys  of  the  Adige  and 
the  Mincio, — the  bloody  Quadrilateral  with  its 
towns  of  Verona,  Peschiera,  and  Mantua,  lay 
spread  out  before  the  eye,  too  beautiful  for  de- 
scription. In  such  a  scene  this  Italian  garden 


16  fntro&uction 


was  rightly  set,  and  justifies  the  old  proverb, 
"  All  is  fine  that  is  fit." 

Yet  while  Lady  Mary  could  frankly  enjoy 
the  art  displayed  in  this  ancient  retreat,  she 

could  sing : 

• 
"  Give  me,  Great  God,  said  I,  a  little  farm, 

In  summer  shady,  and  in  winter  •warm, 

Where  a  clear  spring  gives  birth  to  murmuring  brooks 

By  nature  gliding  down  the  mossy  rocks, 

Not  artfully,  by  leaden  pipes  conveyed, 

Or  greatly  falling  in  a  forced  cascade 

Pure  and  unsullied,  winding  through  the  shade. 

All  bounteous  Heaven  has  added  to  my  prayer 

A  softer  climate  and  a  purer  air." 

Modern  gardening  —  our  contemporary  art, 
not  that  of  Kent,  —  does  not  indeed  disdain 
the  use  of  all  materials  suitable  to  produce  an 
artistic  effect,  though  the  present  drift  is  un- 
doubtedly with  the  ' '  naturalists. "  It  is  at  the 
present  time  that  this  school  has  asserted 
itself  in  its  greatest  vigor  and  fulness,  and  as 
now  practised  it  is  indeed  an  art,  demanding 
not  merely  refined  taste,  sound  judgment,  and  a 
real  love  of  nature,  but  thorough  training  ancj 
cultivation. 


•ffntrofcuction  17 


Though  greatly  indebted  to  Kent  in  its  begin- 
nings, many  others  have  contributed  to  the  de- 
velopment of  landscape  gardening,  and  while 
he  must  always  receive  consideration  for  origi- 
nality and  for  positive  accomplishment,  it  would 
be  a  mistake  to  attach  too  much  importance  to 
his  influence  upon  the  art.  In  the  century  or 
more  that  has  elapsed  since  Walpole's  essay  was 
written  public  taste  has  changed,  and  changed 
again.  Indeed,  the  very  year  before  that  paper 
was  prepared  and  nearly  fifteen  years  before  it 
was  first  published  at  Strawberry  Hill,  there 
appeared  anonymously  an  important  work  on 
the  subject ;  particularly  important,  since  it 
was  almost  the  very  first  treatise  professedly  on 
landscape  art. 

This  was  Thomas  Whately's  "  Observations 
on  Modern  Gardening,"  which  was  published 
in  1770,  and  though  now  but  little  read,  is  rec- 
ognized as  an  authority.  For  the  reason  that  it 
forms  one  of  the  landmarks  in  the  literature 
of  the  subject,  the  selections  for  the  present 
volume  have  been  made  at  some  length  ;  but 
they  might  easily  have  been  expanded,  as 


i8  ITntrofcuction 


every  page  of  the  little  book  is  readable  and 
instructive. 

William  Shenstone,  who  died  in  1763,  also 
wrote  on  the  subject,  and  somewhat  from  the 
standpoint  of  Kent,  his  "Unconnected  Thoughts 
on  the  Garden,"  published  in  1764,  being  fre- 
quently mentioned.  Reference  may  also  be 
made  to  "An  Kssay  on  Design  in  Gardening," 
by  G.  Mason,  published  in  1795,  and  to  various 
other  tracts  and  papers  of  about  the  same  time, 
pertaining  to  what  is  termed  the  school  of  Kent. 

The  parks  and  enclosures  treated  under  this 
style  were  marked  by  simplicity,  and  the  ab- 
sence of  pagodas,  temples,  columns,  and  other 
architectural  tricks  and  devices.  "The  house 
rose  abruptly  from  the  lawn  and  the  general  sur- 
face of  the  ground  was  characterized  by  smooth- 
ness and  bareness,"  as  London  describes  it. 

This  manner  was  followed  by  the  romantic  or 
"picturesque"  style,  to  which  the  Gothic  re- 
vival of  the  time  contributed  not  a  little,  as  the 
radical  change  in  architecture  required  a  differ- 
ent treatment  of  surroundings.  The  French 
Revolution  destroyed  the  temple  and  grotto, 


Untro&uctfon  19 


and  they  gave  way  to  mediaeval  castle  and 
chapel,  and  to  their  broken  fronts,  mullioned 
windows,  pinnacles,  and  turrets,  pines,  spruces, 
and  cedars  of  Lebanon  readily  lent  themselves 
in  producing  a  rugged  effect.  Doubtless  the 
romances  of  Scott  had  much  to  do  with  the 
growth  of  this  taste,  though  the  general  tenden- 
cy of  art  and  literature  at  the  beginning  of  the 
century  was  strongly  romantic  and  sentimental. 
But,  whatever  the  causes,  and  they  were  many 
and  complex,  a  reaction  began  about  this  time 
against  the  simple  treatment  of  Kent  and 
Whately,  and  among  the  writers  who  led  the 
discussions  were  the  Reverend  William  Gilpin 
and  Sir  Uvedale  Price. 

The  delightful  work  of  the  former  "On 
Picturesque  Beauty,"  though  in  part  published 
in  1782,  was  many  years  before  the  public, 
going  through  several  editions.  This  work,  in 
eight  volumes,  consisted  mainly  in  an  account 
of  the  author's  tours  in  every  part  of  Great 
Britain,  with  a  running  commentary  on  the  nat- 
ural scenery  and  the  most  important  country- 
seats  on  the  way,  with  constant  analysis  of  their 


20  IfntroDuction 


beauties  or  defects.  As  stated  in  the  volume 
on  the  River  Wye  :  "  The  following  work  pro- 
poses a  new  object  of  pursuit,  that  of  examin- 
ing the  face  of  a  country  by  the  rules  of  pic- 
turesque beauty" 

A  fair  illustration  of  his  method  of  criticism 
may  be  found  in  the  following  extract  written 
about  Chepstow:  "It  is  a  pity  the  ingenious 
embellisher  of  these  scenes  could  not  have 
been  satisfied  with  the  beauties  of  nature  which 
he  commanded.  The  shrubberies  he  has  intro- 
duced in  this  part  of  his  improvements,  I  fear, 
will  rather  be  esteemed  paltry.  As  the  embel- 
lishments of  a  house,  or  as  the  ornament  of 
little  scenes,  which  have  nothing  better  to  recom- 
mend them,  a  few  flowering  shrubs  artfully 
composed  may  have  their  elegance  and  beauty, 
but  in  scenes  like  this  they  are  only  splendid 
patches  which  injure  the  grandeur  and  sim- 
plicity of  the  whole. 

' Fortasse  cupressum. 

Scis  simulare  :  quod  hoc  ?    .     .     . 

Sit  quidvis  simplex  duntaxat  et  unum. ' 

It  is  not  the  shrub  which  offends,  it  is  the 


•ffntro&uction  21 


formal  introduction  of  it.  Wild  undergrowth 
may  be  an  appendage  of  the  grandest  scene. 
It  is  a  beautiful  appendage.  A  bed  of  violets 
or  lilies  may  enamel  the  ground,  with  propriety, 
at  the  root  of  an  oak  ;  but  if  you  introduce 
them  artificially  in  a  border,  you  introduce  a 
trifling  formality,  and  disgrace  the  noble  object 
you  wish  to  adorn." 

Gilpin's  extensive  journey  ings  had  made  him 
so  familiar  with  broad  landscape  effects,  and  par- 
ticularly with  the  rough  beauties  of  Scotland  and 
the  north  of  England,  that  he  naturally  applied 
his  canons  of  criticism,  as  deduced  from  the 
elements  of  their  beauty  to  the  improvement  of 
many  spots  not  at  all  adapted  to  such  treatment. 
Perhaps,  too,  the  very  contrast  of  these  wild 
mountainous  scenes  to  the  gentle  slopes  and 
open  groves  of  the  New  Forest,  where  he  lived 
many  years  as  the  Vicar  of  Boldre,  may  have 
warped  his  opinion.  At  all  events  he  and  Uve- 
dale  Price  were  for  the  time  the  champions  of 
that  freer  treatment  of  a  landscape  which  had 
for  its  object  the  production  of  a  natural  and 
picturesque  effect. 


22  Ifntrofcuctton 


About  the  same  time  there  was  another  whose 
writings  had  even  greater  influence,  as  they 
were  of  a  more  strictly  professional  character, 
and  consequently  reached  directly  the  men 
whose  business  it  was  to  direct  the  improve- 
ment of  estates.  This  was  Humphrey  Rep  ton, 
who  in  1794  addressed  a  communication  to  Uve- 
dale  Price  entitled  "An  Inquiry  into  the  Change 
of  Taste  in  Landscape  Gardening, ' '  being  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  general  principles  involved,  to- 
gether with  some  practical  observations.  The 
following  year  a  more  important  work  was  pub- 
lished by  him  entitled  "  Sketches  and  Hints  in 
Landscape  Gardening." 

These  and  other  writings  of  Repton  had  much 
to  do  with  the  change  of  popular  taste  from  the 
extremes  of  the  picturesque  school,  modifying 
that  style  to  what  I/oudon  calls  "  Repton's  "  or 
the  " Gardenesque "  school,  "the  characteris- 
tic feature  of  which  is  the  display  of  the  beauty 
of  trees  and  other  plants  INDIVIDUALLY." 

It  would  be  interesting  to  follow  the  varying 
fashions  in  gardening  down  to  to-day,  and  to 
give  some  account  of  the  progress  of  the  art  in 


•(introduction  23 


this  country,  where  we  have  had  not  a  few 
men  of  taste  and  attainments  who  have  left 
their  mark  on  our  parks  and  country-seats,  one 
of  whom,  Mr.  A.  J.  Downing,  has  been  recently 
worthily  and  happily  honored  by  the  city  of 
Newburgh  in  naming  her  principal  park  after 
him.  But  this  introduction  is  not  the  place  for 
more  than  a  glance  at  the  progress  of  the  art. 
It  is  enough  here  to  say  that  the  landscape 
gardener  of  to-day,  while  to  an  extent  the  re- 
sultant of  all  these  antecedent  conditions,  is 
nevertheless  far  beyond  his  predecessors  in 
attainments  and  also  in  opportunities.  He  and 
his  art  have  profited  by  the  strides  of  science 
far  more  than  the  artistic  productions  of  his 
predecessors  have  suffered.  Railways,  factories, 
smoke  and  poisonous  gases  have  blighted  many 
a  fair  landscape  carefully  set  and  adorned  ;  but 
agricultural  chemistry,  structural  and  biologi- 
cal botany,  better  knowledge  of  forestry  and 
climatology,  enable  the  gardener  of  to-day  to 
overcome  difficulties  which  were  anciently  at- 
tributed to  malign  or  providential  interventions. 
The  old  books  are  filled  with  the  accounts 


24  Ifntro&uctton 


of  such  mysteries.  Even  Evelyn,  who  wrote  so 
intelligently,  abounds  in  fairy  stories,  like  that 
of  the  well  in  Hungary,  which  "  transmutes  the 
leaves  of  the  oak  into  brass,  and  iron  into  cop- 
per," or,  as  he  naively  says  in  another  place : 
1  'But  what  is  still  more  strange,  I  read  in  one 
Paulus,  a  physician  of  Denmark,  that  a  handful 
or  two  of  small  oak  buttons,  mingled  with  oats, 
and  given  to  horses  which  are  black,  alter  their 
color  to  a  fine  dapple  gray,  and  this  he  attrib- 
utes to  the  vitriol  abounding  in  this  tree." 

The  ends  of  the  earth  now  contribute  a 
wealth  of  plant  life  adapted  to  useful  and  orna- 
mental tree  and  shrub  culture  and  to  decorative 
horticulture.  Their  habits  and  relative  value 
in  a  landscape  effect,  or  in  a  garden,  must  be 
familiarly  known  and  felt  by  an  artist  who  may 
be  called  upon  to  make  studies  for  a  lodge  in 
Scotland,  a  villa  at  Cannes,  or  a  park  in  Aus- 
tralia ;  who  may  be  required  to  bring  back  the 
primitive  verdure  to  the  banks  of  Niagara,  to 
preserve  the  natural  beauties  of  the  Rockies,  or 
to  plant  the  Plains  with  the  forests  they  can  and 
should  be  made  to  support.  The  rich  flora  of 


•ffntrofcuctton  25 


China  and  Japan  have  now  been  acclimated  in 
Europe, — and  even  more  successfully  in  Amer- 
ica,— and  the  enormous  number  and  variety 
of  trees,  shrubs,  herbaceous  and  other  plants 
now  added  to  the  resources  of  gardening  call  for 
correspondingly  greater  learning  and  training 
than  has  ever  before  been  given  to  the  subject, 
so  that  an  accomplished  landscape-artist  of 
to-day  is  as  far  beyond  the  Kents  and  Le  Notres 
of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
as  they  were  beyond  the  topiarius  who  tortured 
the  trees  and  shrubs  of  Pliny  and  the  Caesars. 

Two  qualities  which  usually  distinguish  pro- 
fessional from  amateur  productions  in  art, 
namely,  simplicity  and  breadth  of  treatment, 
are  especially  important  when  applied  to  the 
face  of  nature  itself.  True,  nature  will  in 
course  of  time  protect  herself  from  the  mis- 
guided assaults  of  well  meaning  amateurs,  by 
covering  up  or  wholly  destroying  their  abortive 
creations.  A  trained  artist,  on  the  other  hand, 
knows  how  to  assist  nature,  without  resorting 
too  bluntly  to  the  easy  device  of  servile  imita- 
tion. In  such  work,  particularly  as  now  taught 


26  ITntrofcuctfort 


and  practised,  there  is  produced  an  impression 
of  repose  and  of  well  balanced  composition  that 
is  suggestive  of  natural  effect,  and  yet  satis- 
factory as  a  work  of  art. 

But  the  gardens  most  enjoyed,  and  most  com- 
monly praised  by  writers  past  and  present  who 
have  avowed  their  fondness  for  gardens,  are  not 
these  elaborate  works  of  art,  nor  are  they  of  great 
extent ;  but  rather  have  they  been  the  village 
door-yard,  tastefully  planted,  or  the  parsonage 
garden,  showing  the  marks  of  judicious  selection 
and  tender  care,  giving  a  homely  and  cheerful 
aspect  to  such  spots,  in  contrast  with  the  dreary 
and  bare  surroundings  of  their  neighbors. 

It  is  precisely  to  such  little  plots  that  modern 
gardening  is  best  adapted.  Varying  with  soil, 
exposure,  and  climate,  the  greatest  freedom  of 
choice  is  possible  as  to  the  effect  to  be  pro- 
duced, and  abundance  of  flowers  can  be  had 
almost  the  year  through  if  conditions  are  intel- 
ligently considered.  Village  door-yards  and 
city  windows  are  rich  fields  for  the  display  of 
good  gardening  unfortunately  but  too  little 
improved  in  this  country.  Indeed  its  neglect 


llntroDuctton  27 


here  is  remarkable  as  compared  with  the 
number  and  beauty  of  such  small  gardens  in 
England,  Holland,  Germany,  and  other  parts 
of  Europe, — very  frequently  the  result  of  labor 
at  odd  times  of  poor  people  whose  days  are  spent 
in  the  factory  or  the  shop.  For  those  who  own 
land  the  great  pity  is  it,  that  they  will  not 
merely  refrain  from  growing  flowers,  but  they 
will  plant  no  trees.  If  they  care  not  for  flowers, 
perhaps  it  may  not  be  worth  while  to  argue 
with  them,  but  as  to  trees  the  case  is  different. 
Most  land-owners,  with  the  honorable  exception 
of  some  of  our  prairie  farmers,  are  wholly  in- 
different to  the  duty  which  they  owe  to  their 
neighborhood  and  to  their  children.  For  them 
must  Old  Gerard  have  written  his  sturdy  invoca- 
tion, as  quoted  by  Evelyn  with  much  approval : 
"  But  forward  in  the  name  of  God  :  graff,  set, 
plant,  and  nourish  up  trees  in  every  corner  of 
your  ground  ;  the  labor  is  small,  the  cost  is  noth- 
ing, the  commodity  is  great;  yourselves  shall 
have  plenty,  the  poor  shall  have  somewhat  in 
time  of  want  to  relieve  their  necessity,  and  God 
shall  reward  your  good  merits  and  diligence." 


THE    GARDEN 


THE  GARDEN. 


PLINY  THE  BLDBR. 
THE  PLEASURES  OF  THE  GARDEN. 

IT  now  remains  for  us  to  return  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  garden,  a  subject  recommended 
by  its  own  intrinsic  merits  to  our  notice  :  for  we 
find  that  in  remote  antiquity,  even,  there  was 
nothing  looked  upon  with  a  greater  degree  of 
admiration  than  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperi- 
des,  those  of  the  Kings  Adonis  and  Alcinous, 
and  the  Hanging  Gardens,  whether  they  were 
the  work  of  Semiramis,  or  whether  of  Cyrus, 
King  of  Assyria,  a  subject  of  which  we  shall 
have  to  speak  in  another  work.  The  kings  of 
Rome  cultivated  their  gardens  with  their  own 


32  ftbe  <3ar£>en 


hands  ;  indeed,  it  was  from  his  garden  that  Tar- 
quinius  Superbus  sent  to  his  son  that  cruel  and 
sanguinary  message  of  his.  In  our  laws  of  the 
Twelve  Tables,  we  find  the  word  "villa,"  or 
"farm,"  nowhere  mentioned;  it  is  the  word 
"hortus  "  that  is  always  used  with  that  signifi- 
cation, while  the  term  "heredium"  we  find 
employed  for  "  garden." 

There  are  certain  religious  impressions,  too, 
that  have  been  attached  to  this  species  of  prop- 
erty, and  we  find  that  it  is  in  the  garden  and  the 
Forum  only  that  statues  of  satyrs  are  conse- 
crated, as  a  protection  against  the  evil  effects  of 
spells  and  sorcery  ;  although  in  Plautus,  we  find 
the  gardens  spoken  of  as  being  under  the  tute- 
lage of  Venus.  At  the  present  day,  under  the 
general  name  of  gardens,  we  have  pleasure- 
grounds  situate  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  as 
well  as  extensive  fields  and  villas. 

Epicurus,  that  connoisseur  in  the  enjoyments 
of  a  life  of  ease,  was  the  first  to  lay  out  a  garden 
at  Athens ;  up  to  his  time  it  had  never  been 
thought  of,  to  dwell  in  the  country  in  the 
middle  of  the  town.  At  Rome,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  garden  constituted  of  itself  the  poor 
man's  field,  and  it  was  from  the  garden  that  the 
lower  classes  procured  their  daily  food — an  ali- 
ment how  guiltlessly  obtained  !  But  still,  it  is 
a  great  deal  better,  no  doubt,  to  dive  into  the 


tbe  )£l&er  33 


abysses  of  the  deep,  and  to  seek  each  kind  of 
oyster  at  the  risk  and  peril  of  shipwreck  ;  to  go 
searching  for  birds  beyond  the  river  Phasis 
even,  which,  protected  as  they  are  by  the  ter- 
rors invented  by  fable,  are  only  rendered  all  the 
more  precious  thereby  ;  to  go  searching  for 
others,  again,  in  Numidia,  and  the  very  sepul- 
chres of  Ethiopia,  or  else  to  be  battling  with 
wild  beasts,  and  to  get  eaten  one's  self  while 
trying  to  take  a  prey  which  another  person  is  to 
eat  !  And  yet,  by  Hercules  !  how  little  do  the 
productions  of  the  garden  cost  us  in  comparison 
with  these  !  How  more  than  sufficient  for 
every  wish  and  for  every  want  !  —  were  it  not, 
indeed,  that  here,  as  in  every  thing  else,  turn 
which  way  we  will,  we  find  the  same  grounds 
for  our  wrath  and  indignation.  We  really 
might  be  content  to  allow  of  fruits  being  grown 
of  the  most  excellent  quality,  remarkable,  some 
of  them  for  their  flavor,  some  for  their  size, 
some,  again,  for  the  monstrosities  of  their 
growth  —  morsels  all  of  them  forbidden  to  the 
poor  !  We  might  allow  of  wines  being  kept  till 
they  are  mellowed  with  age,  or  enfeebled  by 
being  passed  through  cloth  strainers  ;  of  men, 
too,  however  prolonged  their  lives,  never  drink- 
ing any  but  a  wine  that  is  still  older  than  them- 
selves !  We  might  allow  of  luxury  devising  how 
best  to  extract  the  very  aroma,  as  it  were,  and 


34  Gbe  <3ar&en 


marrow  only  from  grain  ;  of  people,  too,  living 
upon  nothing  but  the  choicest  productions  of 
the  confectioner,  and  upon  pastes  fashioned  in 
fantastic  shapes  :  of  one  kind  of  bread  being 
prepared  for  the  rich,  and  another  for  the  mul- 
titude ;  of  the  yearly  produce  of  the  field  being 
classified  in  a  descending  scale,  till  it  reaches 
the  humble  means  of  the  very  lowest  classes, — 
but  do  we  not  find  that  these  refined  distinctions 
have  been  extended  to  the  very  herbs  even,  and 
that  riches  have  contrived  to  establish  points  of 
dissimilarity  in  articles  of  food  which  ordinarily 
sell  for  a  single  copper  coin? 

In  this  department,  even,  humble  as  it  is,  we 
are  still  destined  to  find  certain  productions  that 
are  denied  to  the  community  at  large,  and  the 
very  cabbages  pampered  to  such  an  enormous 
extent  that  the  poor  man's  table  is  not  large 
enough  to  hold  them.  Asparagus,  by  Nature, 
was  intended  to  grow  wild,  so  that  each  might 
gather  it  where  he  pleased — but,  lo  and  behold  ! 
we  find  it  in  the  highest  state  of  cultivation,  and 
Ravenna  produces  heads  that  weigh  as  much 
as  three  pounds  even  !  Alas  for  the  monstrous 
excess  of  gluttony  !  It  would  be  surprising  in- 
deed, for  the  beasts  of  the  field  to  be  forbidden 
the  thistle  for  food,  and  yet  it  is  a  thing  forbid- 
den to  the  lower  classes  of  the  community  ! 
These  refined  distinctions,  too,  are  extended  to 


tbe  BR>er  35 


the  very  water  even,  and,  thanks  to  the  mighty 
influence  of  money,  there  are  lines  of  demarka- 
tion  drawn  in  the  very  elements  themselves. 
Some  persons  are  for  drinking  ice,  others  for 
quaffing  snow,  and  thus  is  the  curse  of  the 
mountain  steep  turned  into  an  appetizing  stim- 
ulus for  the  palate  !  Cold  is  carefully  treasured 
up  for  the  summer  heats,  and  man's  invention 
is  now  racked  how  best  to  keep  snow  freezing 
in  months  that  are  not  its  own.  Some  again 
there  are  who  first  boil  the  water,  and  then 
bring  it  down  to  the  temperature  of  winter  ; — 
indeed,  there  is  nothing  that  pleases  man  in  the 
fashion  in  which  Nature  originally  made  it. 

And  is  it  the  fact,  then,  that  any  herb  of  the 
garden  is  reared  only  for  the  rich  man's  table  ? 
It  is  so — but  still  let  no  one  of  the  angered 
populace  think  of  a  fresh  secession  to  Mount 
Sacer  or  Mount  Aventine  ;  for  to  a  certainty,  in 
the  long  run,  all-powerful  money  will  bring 
them  back  to  just  the  same  position  as  they 
were  when  it  wrought  the  severance.  For,  by 
Hercules!  there  was  not  an  impost  levied  at 
Rome  more  grievous  than  the  market-dues,  an 
impost  that  aroused  the  indignation  of  the 
populace,  who  repeatedly  appealed  with  loud 
clamors  to  all  the  chief  men  of  the  state  to  be 
relieved  from  it.  At  last  they  were  relieved 
from  this  heavy  tax  upon  their  wares ;  and  then 


36  tTbe  <3arfcen 


it  was  found  that  there  was  no  tax  more  lucra- 
tive, more  readily  collected,  or  less  obnoxious 
to  the  caprices  of  chance,  than  the  impost  that 
was  levied  in  exchange  for  it,  in  the  shape  of  a 
property-tax,  extended  to  the  poorest  classes  ; 
for  now  the  very  soil  itself  is  their  surety  that 
paid  the  tax  will  be,  their  means  are  patent  to 
the  light  of  day,  and  the  superficial  extent  of 
their  possessions,  whatever  the  weather  may 
chance  to  be,  always  remains  the  same. 

Cato,  we  find,  speaks  in  highest  praise  of  gar- 
den cabbages  ; — indeed,  it  was  according  to 
their  respective  methods  of  garden  cultivation 
that  the  agriculturists  of  early  times  were  ap- 
preciated, and  it  was  immediately  concluded 
that  it  was  a  sign  of  a  woman  being  a  bad  and 
careless  manager  of  her  family,  when  the 
kitchen-garden — for  this  was  looked  upon  as 
the  woman's  department  more  particularly — 
was  negligently  cultivated  ;  as  in  such  case  her 
only  resource  was,  of  course,  the  shambles  or 
the  herb-market.  But  cabbages  were  not  held 
in  such  high  esteem  in  those  days  as  now  ;  in- 
deed, all  dishes  were  held  in  disrepute  which 
required  something  else  to  help  them  down,  the 
great  object  being  to  economize  oil  as  much  as 
possible  ;  and  as  to  the  flesh-market,  so  much 
as  a  wish  even  to  taste  its  wares  was  visited 
with  censure  and  reproach.  The  chief  thing 


tbe  J&lbet  37 


that  made  them  so  fond  of  the  garden  was  the  fact 
that  its  produce  needs  no  fire  and  ensures  econ- 
omy in  fuel,  and  that  it  offers  resources  which 
are  always  ready  at  hand.  These  articles  of 
food,  which  from  their  peculiar  nature  we  call 
"vinegar-diets,"  were  found  to  be  easy  of  di- 
gestion, by  no  means  apt  to  blunt  and  overload 
the  senses,  and  to  create  but  little  craving  for 
bread  as  an  accompaniment.  A  portion  of  them 
which  is  still  used  by  us  for  seasonings,  attests 
that  our  forefathers  used  only  to  look  at  home 
for  their  resources,  and  that  no  Indian  peppers 
were  in  request  with  them,  or  any  of  those 
other  condiments  which  we  are  in  the  habit  of 
seeking  beyond  the  seas.  In  former  times  the 
lower  classes  of  Rome,  with  their  mimic  gardens 
in  their  windows,  day  after  day  presented  the 
reflex  of  the  country  to  the  eye,  when  as  yet  the 
multitudes  of  atrocious  burglaries,  almost  innu- 
merable, had  not  compelled  us  to  shut  out  all 
such  sights  with  bars  to  the  passers-by. 

Let  the  garden,  then,  have  its  due  meed  of 
honor,  and  let  not  things,  because  they  are 
common,  enjoy  for  that  the  less  share  of  our 
consideration  —  and  the  more  so,  as  we  find  that 
from  it  men  of  the  very  highest  rank  have  been 
content  to  borrow  their  surnames  even  ;  thus  in 
the  Valerian  family,  for  instance,  the  Lactucini 
have  not  thought  themselves  disgraced  by  tak- 


ttbe  (Sarfcetl 


ing  their  name  from  the  lettuce.  Perhaps,  too, 
our  labors  and  research  may  contribute  some 
slight  recommendation  to  this  our  subject ;  al- 
though, with  Virgil,  we  are  ready  to  admit  how 
difficult  it  is,  by  language  however  elevated,  to 
ennoble  a  subject  that  is  so  humble  in  itself. 


PLINY  THE  YOUNGER. 

I^AUREN^INA. 


YOU  are  surprised  that  I  am  so  fond  of  my 
Laurentine,  or  (if  you  prefer  the  name)  my 
L,aurens  ;  but  you  will  cease  to  wonder  when  I 
acquaint  you  with  the  beauty  of  the  villa,  the 
advantages  of  its  situation,  and  the  extensive 
view  of  the  sea-coast.  It  is  only  seventeen 
miles  from  Rome  ;  so  that  when  I  have  finished 
my  business  in  town,  I  can  pass  my  evenings 
here  after  a  good  satisfactory  day's  work. 
There  are  two  different  roads  to  it  ;  if  you  go  by 
that  of  Laurentum,  you  must  turn  off  at  the 
fourteenth  mile-stone  ;  if  by  Ostia,  at  the 
eleventh.  Both  of  them  are  sandy  in  places, 
which  makes  it  a  little  heavier  and  longer  by 
carriage,  but  short  and  easy  on  horseback.  The 
landscape  affords  plenty  of  variety,  the  view  in 
some  places  being  closed  in  by  woods,  in  others 


40  OTbe  (Barren 


extending  over  broad  meadows,  where  numer- 
ous flocks  of  sheep  and  herds  of  cattle,  which 
the  severity  of  the  winter  has  driven  from  the 
mountains,  fatten  in  the  spring  warmth,  and 
on  the  rich  pasturage.  My  villa  is  of  a  conven- 
ient size  without  being  expensive  to  keep  up. 
The  courtyard  in  front  is  plain,  but  not  mean, 
through  which  you  enter  porticos  shaped  into 
the  form  of  the  letter  D,  enclosing  a  small  but 
cheerful  area  between.  These  make  a  capital 
retreat  for  bad  weather,  not  only  as  they  are 
shut  in  with  windows,  but  particularly  as  they 
are  sheltered  by  a  projection  of  the  roof.  From 
the  middle  of  these  porticos  you  pass  into  a 
bright  pleasant  inner  court,  and  out  of  that  into 
a  handsome  hall  running  out  towards  the  sea- 
shore ;  so  that  when  there  is  a  southwest  breeze, 
it  is  gently  washed  with  the  waves,  which  spend 
themselves  at  its  base.  On  every  side  of  this 
hall  there  are  either  folding-doors  or  windows 
equally  large,  by  which  means  you  have  a  view 
from  the  front  and  the  two  sides  of  three  differ- 
ent seas,  as  it  were  :  from  the  back  you  see  the 
middle  court,  the  portico,  and  the  area  ;  and 
from  another  point  you  look  through  the  porti- 
co into  the  courtyard,  and  out  upon  the  woods 
and  distant  mountains  beyond.  On  the  left  hand 
of  this  hall,  a  little  farther  from  the  sea,  lies  a 
large  drawing-room,  and  beyond  that,  a  second 


tbe  H>oun0er  41 


of  a  smaller  size,  which  has  one  window  to  the 
rising  and  another  to  the  setting  sun  :  this  as 
well  has  a  view  of  the  sea,  but  more  distant  and 
agreeable.  The  angle  formed  by  the  projection 
of  the  dining-room  with  this  drawing-room  re- 
tains and  intensifies  the  warmth  of  the  sun,  and 
this  forms  our  winter  quarters  'and  family  gym- 
nasium, which  is  sheltered  from  all  the  winds 
except  those  which  bring  on  clouds,  but  the 
clear  sky  conies  out  again  before  the  warmth 
has  gone  out  of  the  place.  Adjoining  this 
angle  is  a  room  forming  the  segment  of  a  circle, 
the  windows  of  which  are  so  arranged  as  to  get 
the  sun  all  through  the  day  :  in  the  walls  are 
contrived  a  sort  of  cases,  containing  a  collec- 
tion of  authors  who  can  never  be  read  too 
often.  Next  to  this  is  a  bedroom,  connected 
with  it  by  a  raised  passage  furnished  with  pipes, 
which  supply,  at  a  wholesome  temperature,  and 
distribute  to  all  parts  of  this  room,  the  heat 
they  receive.  The  rest  of  this  side  of  the  house 
is  appropriated  to  the  use  of  my  slaves  and 
freedmen  ;  but  most  of  the  rooms  in  it  are 
respectable  enough  to  put  my  guests  into.  In 
the  opposite  wing  is  a  most  elegant,  tastefully 
fitted  up  bedroom  ;  next  to  which  lies  another, 
which  you  may  call  either  a  large  bedroom  or  a 
modified  dining-room  ;  it  is  very  warm  and 
light,  not  only  from  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun 


42  ttbe  (Barfcett 


but  by  their  reflection  from  the  sea.  Beyond 
this  is  a  bedroom  -with  an  ante-room,  the  height 
of  which  renders  it  cool  in  summer,  its  thick 
walls  warm  in  winter,  for  it  is  sheltered,  every 
way,  from  the  winds.  To  this  apartment  an- 
other ante-room  is  joined  by  one  common  wall. 
From  thence  you  enter  into  the  wide  and 
spacious  cooling-room  belonging  to  the  bath, 
from  the  opposite  walls  of  which  two  curved 
basins  are  thrown  out,  so  to  speak  ;  which  are 
more  than  large  enough  if  you  consider  that 
the  sea  is  close  at  hand.  Adjacent  to  this  is 
the  anointing-room,  then  the  sweating-room, 
and  beyond  that  the  bath-heating  room  ;  adjoin- 
ing are  two  other  little  bath-rooms,  elegantly 
rather  than  sumptuously  fitted  up  ;  annexed  to 
them  is  a  warm  bath  of  wonderful  construc- 
tion, in  which  one  can  swim  and  take  a  view 
of  the  sea  at  the  same  time.  Not  far  from  this 
stands  the  tennis-court,  which  lies  open  to  the 
warmth  of  the  afternoon  sun.  From  thence  you 
go  up  a  sort  of  turret  which  has  two  rooms  below, 
with  the  same  number  above,  besides  a  dining- 
room  commanding  a  very  extensive  lookout  on 
to  the  sea,  the  coast,  and  the  beautiful  villas 
scattered  along  the  shore  line.  At  the  other 
end  is  a  second  turret,  containing  a  room  that 
gets  the  rising  and  setting  sun.  Behind  this  is 
a  large  store-room  and  granary,  and  underneath, 


tbe  H?oun0£t  43 


a  spacious  dining-room,  where  only  the  murmur 
and  break  of  the  sea  can  be  heard  even  in  a 
storm  ;  it  looks  out  upon  the  garden,  and  the 
gestatio  running  round  the  garden.  The 
gestatio  is  bordered  round  with  box,  and,  where 
that  is  decayed,  with  rosemary  ;  for  the  box, 
wherever  sheltered  by  the  buildings,  grows 
plentifully,  but  where  it  lies  open  and  exposed 
to  the  weather  and  spray  from  the  sea,  though 
at  some  distance  from  this  latter,  it  quite 
withers  up.  Next  the  gestatio,  and  running 
along  inside  it,  is  a  shady  vine-plantation,  the 
path  of  which  is  so  soft  and  easy  to  the  tread 
that  you  may  walk  barefoot  upon  it.  The  garden 
is  chiefly  planted  with  fig  and  mulberry  trees,  to 
which  this  soil  is  as  favorable  as  it  is  averse 
from  all  others.  Here  is  a  dining-room,  which, 
though  it  stands  away  from  the  sea,  enjoys  the 
garden  view,  which  is  just  as  pleasant  ;  two 
apartments  run  around  the  back  part  of  it,  the 
windows  of  which  look  out  upon  the  entrance 
of  the  villa,  and  into  a  fine  kitchen-garden. 
From  here  extends  an  enclosed  portico,  which, 
from  its  great  length,  you  might  take  for  a 
public  one.  It  has  a  range  of  windows  on  either 
side,  but  more  on  the  side  facing  the  sea,  and 
fewer  on  the  garden  side,  and  these  single  win- 
dows alternate  with  the  opposite  rows.  In 
calm,  clear  weather  these  are  all  thrown  open  ; 


44 


but  if  it  blows,  those  on  the  weather-side  are 
closed,  whilst  those  away  from  the  wind  can 
remain  open  without  any  inconvenience. 
Before  this  enclosed  portico  lies  a  terrace  fra- 
grant with  the  scent  of  violets,  and  warmed  by 
the  reflection  of  the  sun  from  the  portico, 
which,  while  it  retains  the  rays,  keeps  away 
the  northeast  wind  ;  and  it  is  as  warm  on  this 
side  as  it  is  cool  on  the  side  opposite ;  in  the 
same  way  it  is  a  protection  against  the  wind 
from  the  southwest ;  and  thus,  in  short,  by 
means  of  its  several  sides,  breaks  the  force  of 
the  winds  from  whatever  quarter  they  may 
blow.  These  are  some  of  its  winter  advantages : 
they  are  still  more  appreciable  in  the  summer 
time  ;  for  at  that  season  it  throws  a  shade  upon 
the  terrace  during  the  whole  of  the  forenoon, 
and  upon  the  adjoining  portion  of  the  gestatio 
and  garden  in  the  afternoon,  casting  a  greater 
or  less  shade  on  this  side  or  on  that  as  the  day 
increases  or  decreases.  But  the  portico  itself  is 
coolest  just  at  the  time  when  the  sun  is  at  its 
hottest — that  is,  when  the  rays  fall  directly  upon 
the  roof.  Also,  by  opening  the  windows  you 
let  in  the  western  breezes  in  a  free  current, 
which  prevents  the  place  getting  oppressive 
with  close  and  stagnant  air.  At  the  upper  end 
of  the  terrace  and  portico  stands  a  detached 
garden  building,  which  I  call  my  favorite ; 


tbe  ItJounger  45 


my  favorite  indeed,  as  I  put  it  up  myself.  It 
contains  a  very  warm  winter-room,  one  side  of 
which  looks  down  upon  the  terrace,  while  the 
other  has  a  view  of  the  sea,  and  both  lie 
exposed  to  the  sun.  The  bedroom  opens  on  to 
the  covered  portico  by  means  of  folding-doors, 
while  its  window  looks  out  upon  the  sea.  On 
that  side  next  the  sea,  and  facing  the  middle 
wall,  is  formed  a  very  elegant  little  recess, 
which,  by  means  of  transparent  windows  and  a 
curtain  drawn  to  or  aside,  can  be  made  part  of 
the  adjoining  room,  or  separated  from  it.  It 
contains  a  couch  and  two  chairs  ;  as  you  lie 
upon  this  couch,  from  where  your  feet  are  you 
get  a  peep  of  the  sea  ;  looking  behind  you  see 
the  neighboring  villas,  and  from  the  head  you 
have  a  view  of  the  woods.  These  three  views 
may  be  seen  either  separately,  from  so  many 
different  windows,  or  blended  together  in  one. 
Adjoining  this  is  a  bedroom,  which  neither  the 
servants'  voices,  the  murmuring  of  the  sea,  the 
glare  of  lightning,  nor  daylight  itself,  can  pene- 
trate, unless  you  open  the  windows.  This  pro- 
found tranquillity  and  seclusion  are  occasioned 
by  a  passage  separating  the  wall  of  this  room 
from  that  of  the  garden,  and  thus,  by  means  of 
this  intervening  space,  every  noise  is  drowned. 
Annexed  to  this  is  a  tiny  stove-room,  which, 
by  opening  or  shutting  a  little  aperture,  lets  out 


46  Gbe  (Sarfcen 


or  retains  the  heat  from  underneath,  according 
as  you  require.  Beyond  this  lie  a  bedroom  and 
ante-room,  which  enjoy  the  sun,  though 
obliquely  indeed,  from  the  time  it  rises  till  the 
afternoon.  When  I  retire  to  this  garden  sum- 
mer-house, I  fancy  myself  a  hundred  miles 
away  from  my  villa,  and  take  especial  pleasure 
in  it  at  the  feast  of  the  Saturnalia,  when,  by  the 
license  of  that  festive  season,  every  other  part 
of  my  house  resounds  with  my  servants'  mirth  ; 
thus  I  neither  interrupt  their  amusement  nor 
they  my  studies.  Amongst  the  pleasures  and 
conveniences  of  this  situation  there  is  one 
drawback,  and  that  is,  the  want  of  running 
water  ;  but  then  there  are  wells  about  the  place, 
or  rather  springs,  for  they  lie  close  to  the  sur- 
face. And,  altogether,  the  quality  of  this  coast 
is  remarkable  ;  for  dig  where  you  may,  you 
meet,  upon  the  first  turning  up  of  the  ground, 
with  a  spring  of  water,  quite  pure,  not  in  the 
least  salt,  although  so  near  the  sea.  The 
neighboring  woods  supply  us  with  all  the  fuel  we 
require,  the  other  necessaries  Ostia  furnishes. 
Indeed,  to  a  moderate  man,  even  the  village 
(between  which  and  my  house  there  is  only  one 
villa)  would  supply  all  ordinary  requirements. 
It  has  three  public  baths,  which  are  a  great 
convenience  if  it  happen  that  friends  come  in 
unexpectedly,  or  make  too  short  a  stay  to  allow 


tbe  younger  47 


time  for  preparing  tny  own.  The  whole  coast 
is  very  pleasantly  sprinkled  with  villas  either  in 
rows  or  detached,  which,  whether  looking  at 
them  from  the  sea  or  the  shore,  present  the  ap- 
pearance of  so  many  different  cities.  The 
strand  is,  sometimes,  after  a  long  calm,  perfectly 
smooth,  though,  in  general,  through  the  storms 
driving  the  waves  upon  it,  it  is  rough  and 
uneven.  I  cannot  boast  that  our  sea  is  plenti- 
ful in  choice  fish  ;  however,  it  supplies  us  with 
capital  soles  and  prawns  ;  but  as  to  other  kinds 
of  provisions,  my  villa  aspires  to  excel  even  in- 
land countries,  particularly  in  milk  ;  for  the 
cattle  come  up  there  from  the  meadows  in  large 
numbers  in  pursuit  of  water  and  shade.  Tell 
me,  now,  have  I  not  good  reason  for  living  in, 
staying  in,  loving,  such  a  retreat,  which,  if  you 
feel  no  appetite  for,  you  must  be  morbidly  at- 
tached to  town  ?  And  I  only  wish  you  would 
feel  inclined  to  come  down  to  it,  that  to  so  many 
charms  with  which  my  little  villa  abounds,  it 
might  have  the  very  considerable  addition  of 
your  company  to  recommend  it.  Farewell! 

To  GAU,US. 


PLINY  THE  YOUNGER. 


VHJ,A  IN  TUSCUUJM. 

THE  kind  concern  you  expressed  on  hearing 
of  my  design  to  pass  the  summer  at  my 
villa  in  Tuscany,  and  your  obliging  endeavors 
to  dissuade  me  from  going  to  a  place  which 
you  think  unhealthy,  are  extremely  pleasing 
to  me.  It  is  quite  true  indeed  that  the  air  of 
that  part  of  Tuscany  which  lies  towards  the  coast 
is  thick  and  unwholesome  :  but  my  house 
stands  at  a  good  distance  from  the  sea,  under 
one  of  the  Apennines,  which  are  singularly 
healthy.  But,  to  relieve  you  from  all  anxiety 
on  my  account,  I  will  give  you  a  description  of 
the  temperature  of  the  climate,  the  situation  of 
the  country,  and  the  beauty  of  my  villa,  which, 
I  am  persuaded,  you  will  hear  with  as  much 
pleasure  as  I  shall  take  in  giving  it.  The  air  in 
winter  is  sharp  and  frosty,  so  that  myrtles, 


(Ming  tbe  ^oun^er  49 

olives,  and  trees  of  that  kind  which  delight  in 
constant  warmth,  will  not  flourish  here,  but  the 
laurel  thrives,  and  is  remarkably  beautiful, 
though  now  and  then  the  cold  kills  it — though 
not  oftener  than  it  does  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Rome.  The  summers  are  extraordinarily  mild, 
and  there  is  always  a  refreshing  breeze,  seldom 
high  winds.  This  accounts  for  the  number  of 
old  men  we  have  about ;  you  would  see  grand- 
fathers and  great-grandfathers  of  those  now 
grown  up  to  be  young  men,  hear  old  stories 
and  the  dialect  of  our  ancestors,  and  fancy 
yourself  born  in  some  former  age  were  you  to 
come  here.  The  character  of  the  country  is 
exceedingly  beautiful.  Picture  to  yourself  an 
immense  amphitheatre,  such  as  nature  only 
could  create.  Before  you  lies  a  broad,  extended 
plain,  bounded  by  a  range  of  mountains,  whose 
summits  are  covered  with  tall  and  ancient 
woods,  which  are  stocked  with  all  kinds  of 
game.  The  descending  slopes  of  the  mountains 
are  planted  with  underwood,  among  which  are 
a  number  of  little  risings  with  a  rich  soil,  on 
which  hardly  a  stone  is  to  be  found.  In  fruit- 
fulness  they  are  quite  equal  to  a  valley,  and 
though  their  harvest  is  rather  later,  their  crops 
are  just  as  good.  At  the  foot  of  these,  on  the 
mountain-side,  the  eye,  wherever  it  turns,  runs 
along  one  unbroken  stretch  of  vineyards  termi- 


50  tlbc  Garden 


nated  by  a  belt  of  shrubs.  Next  you  have 
meadows  and  the  open  plain.  The  arable  land 
is  so  stiff  that  it  is  necessary  to  go  over  it  nine 
times  with  the  biggest  oxen  and  the  strongest 
ploughs.  The  meadows  are  bright  with  flowers, 
and  produce  trefoil  and  other  kinds  of  herbage 
as  fine  and  tender  as  if  it  were  but  just  sprung 
up,  for  all  the  soil  is  refreshed  by  never  failing 
streams.  But  though  there  is  plenty  of  water, 
there  are  no  marshes  ;  for  the  ground  being  on 
a  slope,  whatever  water  it  receives  without 
absorbing  runs  off  into  the  Tiber.  This  river, 
which  winds  through  the  middle  of  the  mead- 
ows, is  navigable  only  in  the  winter  and  spring, 
at  which  seasons  it  transports  the  produce  of 
the  land  to  Rome  :  but  in  summer  it  sinks 
below  its  banks,  leaving  the  name  of  a  great 
river  to  an  almost  empty  channel  ;  towards  the 
autumn,  however,  it  begins  again  to  renew  its 
claim  to  that  title.  You  would  be  charmed  by 
taking  a  view  of  this  country  from  the  top  of 
one  of  our  neighboring  mountains,  and  would 
fancy  that  not  a  real,  but  some  imaginary  land- 
scape, painted  by  the  most  exquisite  pencil,  lay 
before  you, — such  an  harmonious  variety  of 
beautiful  objects  meets  the  eye,  whichever  way 
it  turns.  My  house,  although  at  the  foot  of  a 
hill,  commands  as  good  a  view  as  if  it  stood  on 
its  brow,  yet  you  approach  by  so  gentle  and 


tbe  lounger  51 


gradual  a  rise  that  you  find  yourself  on  high 
ground  without  perceiving  you  have  been 
making  an  ascent.  Behind,  but  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, is  the  Apennine  range.  In  the  calmest 
days  we  get  cool  breezes  from  that  quarter,  not 
sharp  and  cutting  at  all,  being  spent  and  broken 
by  the  long  distance  they  have  travelled.  The 
greater  part  of  the  house  has  a  southern  aspect, 
and  seems  to  invite  the  afternoon  sun  in  sum- 
mer (but  rather  earlier  in  the  winter)  into  a 
broad  and  proportionately  long  portico,  consist- 
ing of  several  rooms,  particularly  a  court  of 
antique  fashion.  In  front  of  the  portico  is  a 
sort  of  terrace,  edged  with  box  and  shrubs  cut 
into  different  shapes.  You  descend  from  the 
terrace  by  an  easy  slope,  adorned  with  the 
figures  of  animals  in  box,  facing  each  other,  to 
a  lawn  overspread  with  the  soft,  I  had  almost 
said  the  liquid,  Acanthus  ;  this  is  surrounded 
by  a  walk  enclosed  with  evergreens,  shaped 
into  a  variety  of  forms.  Beyond  it  is  the  gesta- 
tio,  laid  out  in  the  form  of  a  circus  running 
round  the  multiform  box-hedge  and  the  dwarf- 
trees,  which  are  cut  quite  close.  The  whole  is 
fenced  in  with  a  wall  completely  covered  by 
box  cut  into  steps  all  the  way  up  to  the  top. 
On  the  outside  of  the  wall  lies  a  meadow  that 
owes  as  many  beauties  to  nature  as  all  I  have 
been  describing  within  does  to  art  ;  at  the  end 


52  Gbe  (Barfcen 


of  which  are  open  plain  and  numerous  other 
meadows  and  copses.  From  the  extremity  of 
the  portico  a  large  dining-room  runs  out,  open- 
ing upon  one  end  of  the  terrace ;  while  from 
the  windows  there  is  a  very  extensive  view  over 
the  meadows  up  into  the  country,  and  from 
these  you  also  see  the  terrace  and  the  project- 
ing wing  of  the  house  together  with  the  woods 
enclosing  the  adjacent  hippodrome.  Almost 
opposite  the  centre  of  the  portico,  and  rather 
to  the  back,  stands  a  summer-house,  enclosing 
a  small  area  shaded  by  four  plane-trees,  in  the 
midst  of  which  rises  a  marble  fountain  which 
gently  plays  upon  the  roots  of  the  plane-trees 
and  upon  the  grass-plots  underneath  them. 
This  summer-house  has  a  bedroom  in  it  free 
from  every  sort  of  noise,  and  which  the  light 
itself  cannot  penetrate,  together  with  a  common 
dining-room  I  use  when  I  have  none  but  inti- 
mate friends  with  me.  A  second  portico  looks 
upon  this  little  area,  and  has  the  same  view  as 
the  other  I  have  just  been  describing.  There 
is,  besides,  another  room,  which,  being  situate 
close  to  the  nearest  plane-tree,  enjoys  a  con- 
stant shade  and  green.  Its  sides  are  encrusted 
with  carved  marble  up  to  the  ceiling,  while 
above  the  marble  a  foliage  is  painted  with  birds 
among  the  branches,  which  has  an  effect  alto- 
gether as  agreeable  as  that  of  the  carving,  at 


tbe  ^ounaet  53 


the  foot  of  which  a  little  fountain,  playing 
through  several  small  pipes  into  a  vase  it 
encloses,  produces  a  most  pleasing  murmur. 
From  a  corner  of  the  portico  you  enter  a  very 
large  bedchamber  opposite  the  large  dining- 
room,  which  from  some  of  its  windows  has  a 
view  of  the  terrace,  and  from  others,  of  the 
meadow,  as  those  in  the  front  look  upon  a  cas- 
cade, which  entertains  at  once  both  the  eye  and 
the  ear  ;  for  the  water,  dashing  from  a  great 
height,  foams  over  the  marble  basin  which 
receives  it  below.  This  room  is  extremely 
warm  in  winter,  lying  much  exposed  to  the  sun, 
and  on  a  cloudy  day  the  heat  of  an  adjoining 
stove  very  well  supplies  his  absence.  Leaving 
this  room,  you  pass  through  a  good-sized,  pleas- 
ant undressing-room  into  the  cold-bath-room, 
in  which  is  a  large  gloomy  bath  ;  but  if  you 
are  inclined  to  swim  more  at  large,  or  in 
warmer  water,  in  the  middle  of  the  area  stands 
a  wide  basin  for  that  purpose,  and  near  it  a 
reservoir  from  which  you  may  be  supplied  with 
cold  water  to  brace  yourself  again,  if  you  should 
find  you  are  too  much  relaxed  by  the  warm. 
Adjoining  the  cold  bath  is  one  of  a  medium  de- 
gree of  heat,  which  enjoys  the  kindly  warmth  of 
the  sun,  but  not  so  intensely  as  the  hot  bath, 
which  projects  farther.  This  last  consists  of 
three  several  compartments,  each  of  different 


54  ttbe  (5ar6en 


degrees  of  heat ;  the  two  former  lie  open  to  the 
full  sun,  the  latter,  though  not  much  exposed 
to  its  heat,  receives  an  equal  share  of  its  light. 
Over  the  undressing-room  is  the  tennis-court, 
which  admits  of  different  kinds  of  games  and 
different  sets  of  players.  Not  far  from  the  baths 
is  the  staircase  leading  to  the  enclosed  portico, 
three  rooms  intervening.  One  of  these  looks 
out  upon  the  little  area  with  the  four  plane- 
trees  round  it,  the  other  upon  the  meadows, 
and  from  the  third  you  have  a  view  of  several 
vineyards,  so  that  each  has  a  different  one,  and 
looks  towards  a  different  point  of  the  heavens. 
At  the  upper  end  of  the  enclosed  portico,  and 
indeed  taken  off  from  it,  is  a  room  that  looks 
out  upon  the  hippodrome,  the  vineyards,  and 
the  mountains ;  adjoining  is  a  room  which  has 
a  full  exposure  to  the  sun,  especially  in  winter, 
and  out  of  which  runs  another  connecting  the 
hippodrome  with  the  house.  This  forms  the 
front.  On  the  side  rises  an  enclosed  portico, 
which  not  only  looks  out  upon  the  vineyards, 
but  seems  almost  to  touch  them.  From  the 
middle  of  this  portico  you  enter  a  dining-room 
cooled  by  the  wholesome  breezes  from  the  Apen- 
nine  valleys  :  from  the  windows  behind,  which 
are  extremely  large,  there  is  a  close  view  of  the 
vineyards,  and  from  the  folding-doors  through 
the  summer  portico.  Along  that  side  of  the 


tbe  Mounter  55 


dining-room  where  there  are  no  windows  runs 
a  private  staircase  for  greater  convenience  in 
serving  up  when  I  give  an  entertainment ;  at 
the  farther  end  is  a  sleeping-room  with  a  look- 
out upon  the  vineyards,  and  (what  is  equally 
agreeable)  the  portico.  Underneath  this  room 
is  an  enclosed  portico  resembling  a  grotto, 
which,  enjoying  in  the  midst  of  summer  heats 
its  own  natural  coolness,  neither  admits  nor 
wants  external  air.  After  you  have  passed 
both  these  porticos,  at  the  end  of  the  dining- 
room  stands  a  third,  which,  according  as  the 
day  is  more  or  less  advanced,  serves  either  for 
winter  or  summer  use.  It  leads  to  two  different 
apartments,  one  containing  four  chambers,  the 
other,  three,  which  enjoy  by  turns  both  sun 
and  shade.  This  arrangement  of  the  different 
parts  of  my  house  is  exceedingly  pleasant, 
though  it  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  beauty 
of  the  hippodrome,  lying  entirely  open  in  the 
middle  of  the  grounds,  so  that  the  eye,  upon 
your  first  entrance,  takes  it  in  entire  in  one 
view.  It  is  set  round  with  plane-trees  covered 
with  ivy,  so  that,  while  their  tops  flourish  with 
their  own  green,  towards  the  roots  their  verdure 
is  borrowed  from  the  ivy  that  twines  round  the 
trunk  and  branches,  spreads  from  tree  to  tree, 
and  connects  them  together.  Between  each 
plane-tree  are  planted  box-trees,  and  behind 


56  Sbc  <3arfcen 


these  stands  a  grove  of  laurels  which  blend 
their  shade  with  that  of  the  planes.  This 
straight  boundary  to  the  hippodrome  alters  its 
shape  at  the  farther  end,  bending  into  a  semi- 
circle, which  is  planted  round,  shut  in  with 
cypresses,  and  casts  a  deeper  and  gloomier 
shade,  while  the  inner  circular  walks  (for  there 
are  several),  enjoying  an  open  exposure,  are 
filled  with  plenty  of  roses,  and  correct,  by  a 
very  pleasant  contrast,  the  coolness  of  the 
stiade  with  the  warmth  of  the  sun.  Having 
passed  through  these  several  winding  alleys, 
you  enter  a  straight  walk,  which  breaks  out 
into  a  variety  of  others,  partitioned  off  by  box- 
row  hedges.  In  one  place  you  have  a  little 
meadow,  in  another  the  box  is  cut  in  a,  thousand 
different  forms,  sometimes  into  letters,  express- 
ing the  master's  name,  sometimes  the  artificer's, 
whilst  here  and  there  rise  little  obelisks  with 
fruit-trees  alternately  intermixed,  and  then  on 
a  sudden,  in  the  midst  of  this  elegant  regu- 
larity, you  are  surprised  with  an  imitation  of 
the  negligent  beauties  of  rural  nature.  In  the 
centre  of  this  lies  a  spot  adorned  with  a 
knot  of  dwarf  plane-trees.  Beyond  these 
stands  an  acacia,  smooth  and  bending  in  places, 
then  again  various  other  shapes  and  names. 
At  the  upper  end  is  an  alcove  of  white  marble, 
shaded  with  vines  and  supported  by  four  small 


tbe  I£>oun0et  57 


Carystian  columns.  From  this  semicircular 
couch,  the  water,  gushing  up  through  several 
little  pipes,  as  though  pressed  out  by  the  weight 
of  the  persons  who  reclined  themselves  upon 
it,  falls  into  a  stone  cistern  underneath,  from 
whence  it  is  received  into  a  fine  polished 
marble  basin,  so  skilfully  contrived  that  it  is 
always  full  without  ever  overflowing.  When  I 
sup  here,  this  basin  serves  as  a  table,  the 
larger  sort  of  dishes  being  placed  around  the 
margin,  while  the  smaller  ones  swim  about  in 
the  form  of  vessels  and  water-fowl.  Opposite 
this  is  a  fountain  which  is  incessantly  emptying 
and  filling,  for  the  water  which  it  throws  up  to 
a  great  height,  falling  back  again  into  it,  is  by 
means  of  consecutive  apertures  returned  as  fast  as 
it  is  received.  Facing  the  alcove  (and  reflecting 
upon  it  as  great  an  ornament  as  it  borrows 
from  it)  stands  a  summer-house  of  exquisite 
marble,  the  doors  of  which  project  and  open 
into  a  green  enclosure,  while  from  its  upper 
and  lower  windows  the  eye  falls  upon  a  variety 
of  different  greens.  Next  to  this  is  a  little  pri- 
vate closet  (which,  though  it  seems  distinct, 
may  form  part  of  the  same  room),  furnished 
with  a  couch,  and  notwithstanding  it  has  win- 
dows on  every  side,  yet  it  enjoys  a  very  agree- 
able gloom,  by  means  of  a  spreading  vine  which 
climbs  to  the  top  and  entirely  overshadows  it. 


$8  tTbe  (Barfcen 


Here  you  may  lie  and  fancy  yourself  in  a  wood, 
with  this  only  difference,  that  you  are  not 
exposed  to  the  weather  as  you  would  be  there. 
Here  too  a  fountain  rises  and  instantly  disap- 
pears— several  marble  seats  are  set  in  different 
places,  which  are  as  pleasant  as  the  summer- 
house  itself  after  one  is  tired  out  with  walking. 
Near  each  seat  is  a  little  fountain,  and  through- 
out the  whole  hippodrome  several  small  rills 
run  murmuring  along  through  pipes,  wherever 
the  hand  of  art  has  thought  proper  to  conduct 
them,  watering  here  and  there  different  plots 
of  green,  and  sometimes  all  parts  at  once.  I 
should  have  ended  before  now,  for  fear  of  being 
too  chatty,  had  I  not  proposed  in  this  letter  to 
lead  you  into  every  corner  of  my  house  and 
gardens.  Nor  do  I  apprehend  your  thinking  it 
a  trouble  to  read  the  description  of  a  place 
which  I  feel  sure  would  please  you  were  you  to 
see  it ;  especially  as  you  can  stop  just  where 
you  please,  and  by  throwing  aside  my  letter, 
sit  down  as  it  were,  and  give  yourself  a  rest  as 
often  as  you  think  proper.  Besides,  I  gave  my 
little  passion  indulgence,  for  I  have  a  passion 
for  what  I  have  built,  or  finished,  myself.  In  a 
word,  (for  why  should  I  conceal  from  my  friend 
either  my  deliberate  opinion  or  my  prejudice  ?  ) 
I  look  upon  it  as  the  first  duty  of  every  writer 
to  frequently  glance  over  his  title-page  and 


tbe  Kounger  59 


consider  well  the  subject  lie  lias  proposed  to 
himself;  and  he  may  be  sure,  if  he  dwells  on 
his  subject,  he  cannot  justly  be  thought  tedious, 
whereas  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  introduces  and 
drags  in  any  thing  irrelevant,  he  will  be  thought 
exceedingly  so.  Homer,  you  know,  has  em- 
ployed many  verses  in  the  description  of  the 
arms  of  Achilles,  as  Virgil  has  also  in  those  of 
J£)neas,  yet  neither  of  them  is  prolix,  because 
they  each  keep  within  the  limits  of  their  original 
design.  Aratus,  you  observe,  is  not  considered 
too  circumstantial,  though  he  traces  and  enu- 
merates the  minutest  stars,  for  he  does  not 
go  out  of  his  way  for  that  purpose,  but  only 
follows  where  his  subject  leads  him.  In  the 
same  way  (to  compare  small  things  with  great), 
so  long  as,  in  endeavoring  to  give  you  an  idea 
of  my  house,  I  have  not  introduced  any  thing 
irrelevant  or  superfluous,  it  is  not  my  letter 
which  describes,  but  my  villa  which  is  de- 
scribed, that  is  to  be  considered  large.  But  to 
return  to  where  I  began,  lest  I  should  justly  be 
condemned  by  my  own  law,  if  I  continue  longer 
in  this  digression,  you  see  now  the  reasons  why 
I  prefer  my  Tuscan  villa  to  those  which  I  pos- 
sess at  Tusculum,  Tiber,  and  Praeneste.  Be- 
sides the  advantages  already  mentioned,  I  en- 
joy here  a  cosier,  more  profound  and  undis- 
turbed retirement  than  anywhere  else,  as  I 


60  ftbe  (Barren 


am  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  business 
of  the  town  and  the  interruption  of  trouble- 
some clients.  All  is  calm  and  composed  ;  which 
circumstances  contribute  no  less  than  its  clear 
air  and  unclouded  sky  to  that  health  of  body 
and  mind  I  particularly  enjoy  in  this  place, 
both  of  which  I  keep  in  full  swing  by  study 
and  hunting.  And  indeed  there  is  no  place 
which  agrees  better  with  my  family,  at  least  I 
am  sure  I  have  not  yet  lost  one  (may  the  ex- 
pression be  allowed ! )  of  all  those  I  brought 
here  with  me.  And  may  the  gods  continue 
that  happiness  to  me,  and  that  honor  to  my 
villa.  Farewell ! 
To  DOMITIUS  APPOUJNARIS. 


LORD  BACON. 

OF  GARDENS. 

GOD  AlyMIGHTY  first  planted  a  garden. 
And  indeed,  it  is  the  purest  of  human 
pleasures  ;  it  is  the  greatest  refreshment  to  the 
spirits  of  man  ;  without  which  buildings  and 
palaces  are  but  gross  handy-works  :  and  a  man 
shall  ever  see,  that,  when  ages  grow  to  civility 
and  elegancy,  men  come  to  build  stately, 
sooner  than  to  garden  finely ;  as  if  gardening 
were  the  greater  perfection. 

I  do  hold  it  in  the  royal  ordering  of  gardens, 
there  ought  to  be  gardens  for  all  the  months  in 
the  year,  in  which,  severally,  things  of  beauty 
may  be  then  in  season.  For  December,  and 
January,  and  the  latter  part  of  November,  you 
must  take  such  things  as  are  green  all  winter  : 
holly,  ivy,  bays,  juniper,  cyprus-trees,  yew, 
pineapple-trees,  fir-trees,  rosemary,  lavender; 
periwinkle,  the.  white,  the  purple,  and  the 


62  Gbe  <3arfcen 


blue ;  germander,  flags,  orange-trees,  lemon- 
trees,  and  myrtles,  if  they  be  stoved ;  and 
sweet  marjoram,  warm  set.  There  followeth 
for  the  latter  part  of  January  and  February,  the 
mezereon-tree,  which  then  blossoms :  crocus 
vernus,  both  the  yellow  and  the  gray ;  prim- 
roses, anemones,  the  early  tulipa,  the  hyacin- 
thus  orientalis ;  chamairis  fritellaria.  For 
March,  there  come  violets,  especially  the 
single  blue,  which  are  the  earliest ;  the  yellow 
daffodil,  the  daisy,  the  almond-tree  in  blossom, 
the  peach-tree  in  blossom,  the  cornelian-tree 
in  blossom  ;  sweet-brier.  In  April  follow  the 
double  white  violet,  the  wallflower,  the  stock- 
gilliflower,  the  cowslip,  flower-de-luces,  and 
lilies  of  all  natures ;  rosemary-flowers,  the 
tulipa  ;  the  double  peony,  the  pale  daffodil,  the 
French  honeysuckle,  the  cherry-tree  in  blos- 
som, the  damascene  and  plum-trees  in  blossom, 
the  white  thorn  in  leaf,  the  lilac-tree.  In 
May  and  June  come  pinks  of  all  sorts,  spe- 
cially the  blush-pink ;  roses  of  all  kinds,  except 
the  musk,  which  comes  later,  honeysuckles, 
strawberries,  bugloss,  columbine,  the  French 
marigold,  flos  Africanus,  cherry-tree  in  fruit, 
ribes,  figs  in  fruit,  rasps,  vine-flowers, 
lavender  in  flowers,  the  sweet  satyrian,  with 
the  white  flower ;  herba  muscaria,  lilium 
cpnvallium,  the  apple-tree  in  blossom.  In 


JSacon  63 


July  come  gilliflowers  of  all  varieties,  musk- 
roses,  and  lime-tree  in  blossom,  early  pears,  and 
plums  in  fruit,  genitings,  codlins.  In  August 
come  plums  of  all  sorts  in  fruit,  pears,  apricots, 
barberries,  filberts,  muskmelons,  monk's-hoods, 
of  all  colors.  In  September  come  grapes,  ap- 
ples, poppies  of  all  colors,  peaches,  meloco- 
tones,  nectarines,  cornelians,  wardens,  quinces. 
In  October,  and  the  beginning  of  November, 
come  services,  medlars,  bullaces,  roses  cut  or 
removed  to  come  late,  hollyoaks,  and  such  like. 
These  particulars  are  for  the  climate  of  London, 
but  my  meaning  is  perceived,  that  you  may 
have  ver  perpetuum,  as  the  place  affords. 

And  because  the  breath  of  flowers  is  far 
sweeter  in  the  air  (where  it  comes  and  goes,  like 
the  warbling  of  music),  than  in  the  hand  ;  there- 
fore nothing  is  more  fit  for  that  delight  than  to 
know  what  be  the  flowers  and  plants  that  do 
best  perfume  the  air.  Roses,  damask  and  red, 
are  fast  flowers  of  their  smells  ;  so  that  you  may 
walk  by  a  whole  row  of  them  and  find  nothing 
of  their  sweetness  ;  yea,  though  it  be  in  a  morn- 
ing's dew.  Bays,  likewise,  yield  no  smell  as 
they  grow,  rosemary  little,  nor  sweet  marjoram  ; 
that  which,  above  all  others,  yields  the  sweetest 
smell  in  the  air  is  the  violet,  especially  the 
white  double  violet,  which  comes  twice  a  year, 
about  the  middle  of  April,  and  about  Bartholo- 


64  Gbe  <3atfcen 


mew-tide.  Next  to  that  is  the  musk-rose  ;  then 
the  strawberry-leaves  dying,  with  a  most  excel- 
lent cordial  smell ;  then  the  flower  of  the  vines, 
it  is  a  little  dust  like  the  dust  of  a  bent,  which 
grows  upon  the  cluster  in  the  first  coming 
forth  ;  then  sweetbrier,  then  wallflowers,  which 
are  very  delightful  to  be  set  under  a  parlor  or 
lower  chamber  window  ;  then  pinks  and  gilli- 
flowers,  specially  the  matted  pink  and  clove 
gilliflower  ;  then  the  flowers  of  the  lime-tree  ; 
then  the  honeysuckles,  so  they  be  somewhat  afar 
off.  Of  bean-flowers  I  speak  not,  because  they 
are  field-flowers  ;  but  those  which  perfume  the 
air  most  delightfully,  not  passed  by  as  the  rest, 
but  being  trodden  upon  and  crushed,  are  three — 
that  is,  burnet,  wild  thyme,  and  water-mints; 
therefore  you  are  to  set  whole  alleys  of  them,  to 
have  the  pleasure  when  you  walk  or  tread. 

For  gardens  (speaking  of  those  which  are  in- 
deed prince-like,  as  we  have  done  of  buildings), 
the  contents  ought  not  well  to  be  under  thirty 
acres  of  ground,  and  to  be  divided  into  three 
parts  ;  a  green  in  the  entrance,  a  heath,  or 
desert,  in  the  going  forth,  and  the  main  garden 
in  the  midst,  besides  alleys  on  both  sides  ;  and 
I  like  well  that  four  acres  of  ground  be  assigned 
to  the  green,  six  to  the  heath,  four  and  four  to 
either  side,  and  twelve  to  the  main  garden. 
The  green  hath  two  pleasures  :  the  one,  because 


Xorfc  JBacon  65 


nothing  is  more  pleasant  to  the  eye  than  green 
grass  kept  finely  shorn ;  the  other,  because  it 
will  give  you  a  fair  alley  in  the  midst,  by  which 
you  may  go  in  front  upon  a  stately  hedge, 
which  is  to  enclose  the  garden  ;  but  because  the 
alley  will  be  long,  and  in  great  heat  of  the  year, 
or  day,  you  ought  not  to  buy  the  shade  in  the 
garden  by  going  in  the  sun  through  the  green  ; 
therefore  you  are,  of  either  side  the  green,  to 
plant  a  covert  alley,  upon  carpenter's  work, 
about  twelve  foot  in  height,  by  which  you  may 
go  in  shade  into  the  garden.  As  for  the  making 
of  knots,  or  figures,  with  divers  colored  earths, 
that  they  may  lie  under  the  windows  of  the 
house  on  that  side  which  the  garden  stands, 
they  be  but  toys  ;  you  may  see  as  good  sights 
many  times  in  tarts.  The  garden  is  best  to  be 
square,  encompassed  on  all  the  four  sides  with  a 
stately  arched  hedge  ;  the  arches  to  be  upon 
pillars  of  carpenter's  work,  of  some  ten  foot 
high  and  six  foot  broad,  and  the  spaces  between 
of  the  same  dimension  with  the  breadth  of  the 
arch.  Over  the  arches  let  there  be  an  entire 
hedge  of  some  four  foot  high,  framed  also  upon 
carpenter's  work ;  and  upon  the  upper  hedge, 
over  every  arch,  a  little  turret,  with  a  belly 
enough  to  receive  a  cage  of  birds  ;  and  over 
every  space  between  the  arches  some  other  little 
figure,  with  broad  plates  of  round  colored  glass 


66  Gbe  <$arfcen 


gilt,  for  the  sun  to  play  upon  ;  but  this  hedge  I 
intend  to  be  raised  upon  a  bank,  not  steep,  but 
gently  slope,  of  some  six  foot,  set  all  with 
flowers.  Also  I  understand  that  this  square  of 
the  garden  should  not  be  the  whole  breadth  of 
the  ground,  but  to  leave  on  either  side  ground 
enough  for  diversity  of  side  alleys,  unto  which 
the  two  covert  alleys  of  the  green  may  deliver 
you  ;  but  there  must  be  no  alleys  with  hedges 
at  either  end  of  this  great  enclosure  ;  not  at  the 
hither  end,  for  letting  your  prospect  upon  this 
fair  hedge  from  the  green  ;  nor  at  the  farther 
end,  for  letting  your  prospect  from  the  hedge 
through  the  arches  upon  the  heath. 

For  the  ordering  of  the  ground  within  the 
great  hedge,  I  leave  it  to  variety  of  device  ;  ad- 
vising, nevertheless,  that  whatsoever  form  you 
cast  it  into  first,  it  be  not  too  bushy,  or  full  of 
work  ;  wherein  I,  for  my  part,  do  not  like 
images  cut  out  in  juniper  or  other  garden  stuff ; 
they  be  for  children.  lyittle  low  hedges,  round 
like  welts,  with  some  pretty  pyramids,  I  like 
well ;  and  in  some  places  fair  columns,  upon 
frames  of  carpenter's  work.  I  would  also  have 
the  alleys  spacious  and  fair.  You  may  have 
closer  alleys  upon  the  side  grounds,  but  none 
in  the  main  garden.  I  wish  also,  in  the  very 
middle,  a  fair  mount,  with  three  ascents  and 
alleys,  enough  for  four  to  walk  abreast,  which 


XorD  JBacon  67 


I  would  have  to  be  perfect  circles,  without 
any  bulwarks  or  embossments,  and  the  whole 
mount  to  be  thirty  foot  high  ;  and  some  fine 
ban que ting-house  with  some  chimneys  neatly 
cast,  and  without  too  much  glass. 

For  fountains,  they  are  a  great  beauty  and 
refreshment ;  but  pools  mar  all,  and  make  the 
garden  unwholesome,  and  full  of  flies  and  frogs. 
Fountains  I  intend  to  be  of  two  natures  :  the  one 
that  sprinkleth  or  spouteth  water ;  the  other  a 
fair  receipt  of  water,  of  some  thirty  or  forty  foot 
square,  but  without  fish,  or  slime,  or  mud.  For 
the  first,  the  ornaments  of  images,  gilt  or  of 
marble,  which  are  in  use,  do  well ;  but  the 
main  matter  is  so  to  convey  the  water,  as  it 
never  stay,  either  in  the  bowls  or  in  the  cistern  ; 
that  the  water  be  never  by  rest  discolored,  green, 
or  red,  or  the  like,  or  gather  any  mossiness  or 
putrefaction  ;  besides  that,  it  is  to  be  cleansed 
every  day  by  the  hand  ;  also  some  steps  up  to 
it,  and  some  fine  pavement  about  it  doth  well. 
As  for  the  other  kind  of  fountain,  which  we  may 
call  a  bathing-pool,  it  may  admit  much  curi- 
osity and  beauty,  wherewith  we  will  not  trouble 
ourselves  ;  as,  that  the  bottom  be  finely  paved, 
and  with  images ;  the  sides  likewise ;  and 
withal  embellished  with  colored  glass,  and  such 
things  of  lustre  ;  encompassed  also  with  fine 
rails  of  low  statues ;  but  the  main  point  is  the 


68 


same  which  we  mentioned  in  the  former  kind  of 
fountain ;  which  is,  that  the  water  be  in  per- 
petual motion,  fed  by  a  water  higher  than  the 
pool,  and  delivered  into  it  by  fair  spouts,  and 
then  discharged  away  under  ground,  by  some 
equality  of  bores,  that  it  stay  little  ;  and  for  fine 
devices,  of  arching  water  without  spilling,  and 
making  it  rise  in  several  forms  (of  feathers, 
drinking-glasses,  canopies,  and  the  like),  they 
be  pretty  things  to  look  on,  but  nothing  to 
health  and  sweetness. 

For  the  heath,  which  was  the  third  part  of  our 
plot,  I  wish  it  to  be  framed  as  much  as  may  be 
to  a  natural  wildness.  Trees  I  would  have  none 
in  it,  but  some  thickets  made  only  of  sweet- 
brier  and  honeysuckle,  and  some  wild  vine 
amongst ;  and  the  ground  set  with  violets, 
strawberries,  and  primroses  ;  for  these  are 
sweet,  and  prosper  in  the  shade ;  and  these  to 
be  in  the  heath  here  and  there,  not  in  any  order. 
I  like  also  little  heaps,  in  the  nature  of  mole- 
hills (such  as  are  wild  heaths),  to  be  set,  some 
with  wild  thyme,  some  with  pinks,  some  with 
germander,  that  gives  a  good  flower  to  the  eye  ; 
some  with  periwinkle,  some  with  violets,  some 
with  strawberries,  some  with  cowslips,  some 
with  daisies,  some  with  red  roses,  some  with 
lilium  convallium,  some  with  sweet-williams 
red,  some  with  bear's-foot,  and  the  like  low 


JSacon  69 


flowers,  being  withal  sweet  and  sightly  ;  part  of 
which  heaps  to  be  with  standards  of  little 
bushes  pricked  upon  their  top,  and  part  with- 
out ;  the  standards  to  be  roses,  juniper,  holly, 
barberries  (but  here  and  there,  because  of  the 
smell  of  their  blossom),  red  currants,  gooseber- 
ries, rosemary,  bays,  sweetbrier,  and  such  like  : 
but  these  standards  to  be  kept  with  cutting,  that 
they  grow  not  out  of  course. 

For  the  side  grounds,  you  are  to  fill  them  with 
variety  of  alleys,  private,  to  give  a  full  shade  ; 
some  of  them,  wheresover  the  sun  be.  You  are 
to  frame  some  of  them  likewise  for  shelter,  that 
when  the  wind  blows  sharp  you  may  walk  as  in 
a  gallery  ;  and  those  alleys  must  be  likewise 
hedged  at  both  ends,  to  keep  out  the  wind  ;  and 
these  closer  alleys  must  be  ever  finely  gravelled, 
and  no  grass,  because  of  going  wet.  In  many 
of  these  alleys,  likewise,  you  are  to  set  fruit- 
trees  of  all  sorts,  as  well  upon  the  walls  as  in 
ranges  ;  and  this  should  be  generally  observed, 
that  the  borders  wherein  you  plant  your  fruit- 
trees  be  fair,  and  large,  and  low,  and  not  steep  ; 
and  set  with  fine  flowers,  but  thin  and  sparingly, 
lest  they  deceive  the  trees.  At  the  end  of 
both  the  side  grounds  I  would  have  a  mount 
of  some  pretty  height,  leaving  the  wall  of  the 
enclosure  breast  high,  to  look  abroad  into  the 
fields. 


70  tTbe  (Barfcett 


For  the  main  garden  I  do  not  deny  but  there 
should  be  some  fair  alleys  ranged  on  both  sides, 
with  fruit-trees,  and  some  pretty  tufts  of  fruit- 
trees  and  arbors  with  seats,  set  in  some  decent 
order ;  but  these  to  be  by  no  means  set  too 
thick,  but  to  leave  the  main  garden  so  as  it  be 
not  close,  but  the  air  open  and  free.  For  as  for 
shade,  I  would  have  you  rest  upon  the  alleys  of 
the  side  grounds,  there  to  walk,  if  you  be  dis- 
posed, in  the  heat  of  the  year  or  day  ;  but  to 
make  account  that  the  main  garden  is  for  the 
more  temperate  parts  of  the  year,  and  in  the  heat 
of  summer  for  the  morning  and  the  evening  or 
overcast  days. 

For  aviaries,  I  like  them  not,  except  they  be 
of  that  largeness  as  they  may  be  turfed,  and 
have  living  plants  and  bushes  set  in  them  ;  that 
the  birds  may  have  more  scope  and  natural 
nestling,  and  that  no  foulness  appear  in  the 
floor  of  the  aviary. 

So  I  have  made  a  platform  of  a  princely  gar- 
den, partly  by  precept,  partly  by  drawing  ;  not 
a  model,  but  some  general  lines  of  it ;  and  in 
this  I  have  spared  for  no  cost ;  but  it  is  nothing 
for  great  princes,  that  for  the  most  part,  taking 
advice  with  workmen,  with  no  less  cost,  set  their 
things  together  ;  and  sometimes  add  statues  and 
such  things,  for  state  and  magnificence,  but 
nothing  to  the  true  pleasure  of  a  garden. 


SIR  WILLIAM  TBMPLB. 

UPON  THE  GARDENS  OF  EPICURUS  J  OR, 
OF  GARDENING  IN  THE  YEAR  1685. 

THK  same  faculty  of  reason,  which  gives 
mankind  the  great  advantage  and  preroga- 
tive over  the  rest  of  creation,  seems  to  make 
the  greatest  default  of  human  nature,  and  sub- 
jects it  to  more  troubles,  miseries,  or  at  least 
disquiets  of  life,  than  any  of  its  fellow  creatures. 
It  is  this  furnishes  us  with  such  variety  of 
passions,  and  consequently  of  wants  and 
desires,  that  none  other  feels ;  and  these  fol- 
lowed by  infinite  designs  and  endless  pursuits, 
and  improved  by  that  restlessness  of  thought 
which  is  natural  to  most  men,  give  him  a  condi- 
tion of  life  suitable  to  that  of  his  birth  ;  so  that, 
as  he  alone  is  born  crying,  he  lives  complaining 
and  dies  disappointed. 


72  Gbe  <$ar&en 


Since  we  cannot  escape  the  pursuit  of  passions 
and  perplexity  of  thoughts  which  our  reason 
furnishes  us,  there  is  no  way  left,  but  to 
endeavor  all  we  can  either  to  subdue  or  to 
divert  them.  This  last  is  the  common  business 
of  common  men,  who  seek  it  by  all  sorts  of 
sports,  pleasures,  play,  or  business.  But, 
because  the  two  first  are  of  short  continuance, 
soon  ending  with  weariness,  or  decay  of  vigor 
and  appetite,  the  return  whereof  must  be 
attended  before  the  others  can  be  renewed ; 
and  because  play  grows  dull  if  it  be  not 
enlivened  with  the  hopes  of  gain,  the  general 
diversion  of  mankind  seems  to  be  business,  or 
the  pursuit  of  riches  in  one  kind  or  other; 
which  is  an  amusement  that  has  this  one 
advantage  above  all  others,  that  it  lasts  those 
men  who  engage  in  it  to  the  very  end  of  their 
lives ;  none  ever  growing  too  old  for  the 
thoughts  and  desires  of  increasing  his  wealth 
and  fortunes,  either  for  himself,  his  friends,  or 
his  posterity. 

In  the  first  and  most  simple  ages  of  each 
country,  the  conditions  and  lives  of  men  seem 
to  have  been  very  near  of  kin  with  the  rest  of 
the  creatures  :  they  lived  by  the  hour,  or  by  the 
day,  and  satisfied  their  appetite  with  what  they 
could  get  from  the  herbs,  the  fruits,  the  springs 
they  met  with  when  they  were  hungry  or  dry  ; 


Sir  William  ttemple  73 

then,  with  what  fish,  fowl,  or  beasts  they  could 
kill,  by  swiftness  or  strength,  by  craft  or  con- 
trivance, by  their  hands,  or  such  instruments  as 
wit  helped  or  necessity  forced  them  to  invent. 
When  a  man  had  got  enough  for  the  day,  he 
laid  up  the  rest  for  the  morrow,  and  spent  one 
day  in  labor  that  he  might  pass  the  other  at 
ease  ;  and  lured  on  by  the  pleasure  of  this  bait, 
when  he  was  in  vigor  and  his  game  fortunate, 
he  would  provide  for  as  many  days  as  he  could, 
both  for  himself  and  his  children,  that  were  too 
young  to  seek  out  for  themselves.  Then  he 
cast  about,  how  by  sowing  of  grain,  and  by 
pasture  of  the  tamer  cattle,  to  provide  for  the 
whole  year.  After  this,  dividing  the  lands 
necessary  for  these  uses,  first  among  children, 
and  then  among  servants,  he  reserved  to  him- 
self a  proportion  of  their  gain,  either  in  the 
native  stock,  or  something  equivalent,  which 
brought  in  the  use  of  money ;  and  where  this 
once  came  in,  none  was  to  be  satisfied  without 
having  enough  for  himself  and  his  family,  and 
all  his  and  their  posterity  forever ;  so  that  I 
know  a  certain  lord  who  professes  to  value  no 
lease,  though  for  a  hundred  or  a  thousand 
years,  nor  any  estate  nor  possession  of  land, 
that  is  not  for  ever  and  ever. 

From    such    small    beginnings   have   grown 
such    vast    and   extravagant   designs    of   poor 


74  tTbe  Garden 


mortal  men ;  yet  none  could  ever  answer  the 
naked  Indian,  why  one  man  should  take  pains, 
and  run  hazards  by  sea  and  land  all  his  life, 
that  his  children  might  be  safe  and  lazy  all 
theirs  ;  and  the  precept  of  taking  no  care  for  to- 
morrow, though  never  minded  as  impracticable 
in  the  world,  seems  but  to  reduce  mankind  to 
their  natural  and  original  condition  of  life.  How- 
ever, by  these  ways  and  degrees,  the  endless  in- 
crease of  riches  seems  to  be  grown  the  perpetual 
and  general  amusement  or  business  of  mankind. 
Some  few  in  each  country  make  these  higher 
flights  after  honor  and  power,  and  to  these  ends 
sacrifice  their  riches,  their  labor,  their  thought, 
and  their  lives  ;  and  nothing  diverts  nor  busies 
men  more  than  these  pursuits,  which  are 
usually  covered  with  the  pretences  of  serving  a 
man's  country,  and  of  public  good.  But  the 
true  service  of  the  public  is  a  business  of  so 
much  labor  and  so  much  care,  that  though  a 
good  and  wise  man  may  not  refuse  it,  if  he  be 
called  to  it  by  his  prince  or  his  country,  and 
thinks  he  can  be  of  more  than  vulgar  use,  yet 
he  will  seldom  or  never  seek  it,  but  leaves  it 
commonly  to  men  who,  under  the  disguise  of 
public  good,  pursue  their  own  designs  of 
wealth,  power,  and  such  bastard  honors  as 
usually  attend  them,  not  that  which  is  the  true, 
and  only  true  reward  of  virtue. 


Sir  TOltfam  temple  75 

The  pursuits  of  ambition,  though  not  so 
general,  yet  are  as  endless  as  those  of  riches, 
and  as  extravagant ;  since  none  ever  yet 
thought  he  had  power  or  empire  enough  ;  and 
what  prince  soever  seems  to  be  so  great,  as  to 
live  and  reign  without  any  further  desires  or 
fears,  falls  into  the  life  of  a  private  man,  and 
enjoys  but  those  pleasures  and  entertainments, 
which  a  great  many  several  degrees  of  private 
fortune  will  allow,  and  as  much  as  human 
nature  is  capable  of  enjoying. 

The  pleasures  of  the  senses  grow  a  little  more 
choice  and  refined  ;  those  of  imagination  are 
turned  upon  embellishing  the  scenes  he  chooses 
to  live  in;  ease,  conveniency,  elegancy,  mag- 
nificence, are  sought  in  building  first,  and 
then  in  furnishing  houses  or  palaces :  the 
admirable  imitations  of  nature  are  introduced 
by  pictures,  statues,  tapestry,  and  other  such 
achievements  of  arts.  And  the  most  exquisite 
delights  of  sense  are  pursued  in  the  contrivance 
and  plantation  of  gardens  ;  which,  with  fruits, 
flowers,  shades,  fountains,  and  the  music  of 
birds  that  frequent  such  happy  places,  seem  to 
furnish  all  the  pleasures  of  the  several  senses, 
and  with  the  greatest,  or  at  least  the  most 
natural  perfections. 

Thus  the  first  race  of  Assyrian  kings,  after 
the  conquests  of  Ninus  and  Semiramis,  passed 


76  tTbc  (Barren 


their  lives,  till  their  empire  fell  to  the  Medes. 
Thus  the  Caliphs  of  Egypt,  till  deposed  by  their 
Mamelukes.  Thus  passed  the  latter  parts  of 
those  great  lives  of  Scipio,  I/ucullus,  Augustus, 
Diocletian.  Thus  turned  the  great  thoughts 
of  Henry  II.  of  France,  after  the  end  of  his  wars 
with  Spain.  Thus  the  present  king  of  Moroc- 
co, after  having  subdued  all  his  competitors, 
passes  his  life  in  a  country  villa,  gives  audience 
in  a  grove  of  orange-trees  planted  among  purling 
streams.  And  thus  the  king  of  France,  after 
all  the  successes  of  his  councils  or  arms,  and  in 
the  mighty  elevation  of  his  present  greatness 
and  power,  when  he  gives  himself  leisure  from 
such  designs  or  pursuits,  passes  the  softer  and 
easier  parts  of  his  time  in  country-houses  or 
gardens,  in  building,  planting,  or  adorning  the 
scenes,  or  in  the  common  sports  and  entertain- 
ments of  such  kind  of  lives.  And  those  mighty 
emperors,  who  contented  not  themselves  with 
these  pleasures  of  common  humanity,  fell  into 
the  fanatic  or  the  extravagant ;  they  pretended 
to  be  gods  or  turned  to  be  devils,  as  Caligula 
and  Nero,  and  too  many  others  known  enough 
in  story. 

Whilst  mankind  is  thus  generally  busied  or 
amused,  that  part  of  them,  who  have  had  either 
the  justice  or  the  luck  to  pass  in  common 
opinion  for  the  wisest  and  the  best  part  among 


Sir  TNUllfam  temple  77 

them,  have  followed  another  and  very  different 
scent ;  and  instead  of  the  common  designs  of 
satisfying  their  appetites  and  their  passions,  and 
making  endless  provisions  for  both,  they  have 
chosen  what  they  thought  a  nearer  and  a  surer 
way  to  the  ease  and  felicity  of  life,  by  endeavor- 
ing to  subdue,  or  at  least  to  temper,  their  pas- 
sions, and  reduce  their  appetites  to  what  nature 
seems  only  to  ask  and  to  need.  And  this  design 
seems  to  have  brought  philosophy  into  the 
world,  at  least  that  which  is  termed  moral,  and 
appears  to  have  an  end  not  only  desirable  by 
every  man,  which  is  the  ease  and  happiness 
of  life,  but  also  in  some  degree  suitable  to  the 
force  and  reach  of  human  nature :  for,  as  to 
that  part  of  philosophy  which  is  called  natural, 
I  know  no  end  it  can  have,  but  that  of  either 
busying  a  man's  brains  to  no  purpose,  or  satis- 
fying the  vanity  so  natural  to  most  men  of  dis- 
tinguishing themselves,  by  some  way  or  other, 
from  those  that  seem  their  equals  in  birth  and 
the  common  advantages  of  it ;  and  whether  this 
distinction  be  made  by  wealth  or  power,  or 
appearance  of  knowledge,  which  gains  esteem 
and  applause  in  the  world,  is  all  a  case.  More 
than  this  I  know  no  advantage  mankind  has 
gained  by  the  progress  of  natural  philosophy, 
during  so  many  ages  it  has  had  vogue  in  the 
world,  excepting  always,  and  very  justly,  what 


78  <Ibe  (Barren 


we  owe  to  the  mathematics,  which  is  in  a  man- 
ner all  that  seems  valuable  among  the  civilized 
nations,  more  than  those  we  call  barbarous, 
whether  they  are  so  or  no,  or  more  so  than 
ourselves. 

How  ancient  this  natural  philosophy  has  been 
in  the  world  is  hard  to  know ;  for  we  find  fre- 
quent mention  of  ancient  philosophers  in  this 
kind,  among  the  most  ancient  now  extant  with 
us.  The  first  who  found  out  the  vanity  of  it 
seems  to  have  been  Solomon,  of  which  discovery 
he  has  left  such  admirable  strains  in  Bcclesi- 
astes.  The  next  was  Socrates,  who  made  it 
the  business  of  his  life  to  explode  it,  and  intro- 
duce that  which  we  call  moral  in  its  place,  to 
busy  human  minds  to  better  purpose.  And 
indeed,  whoever  reads  with  thought  what  these 
two,  and  Marcus  Antoninus,  have  said  upon  the 
vanity  of  all  that  mortal  man  can  ever  attain  to 
know  of  nature,  in  its  originals  or  operations, 
may  save  himself  a  great  deal  of  pains,  and 
justly  conclude,  that  the  knowledge  of  such 
things  is  not  our  game  ;  and  (like  the  pursuit 
of  a  stag  by  a  little  spaniel)  may  serve  to  amuse 
and  to  weary  us,  but  will  never  •  be  hunted 
down.  Yet  I  think  those  three  I  have  named 
may  justly  pass  for  the  wisest  triumvirate 
that  are  left  us  upon  the  records  of  story  or 
of  time. 


Sir  TKHtlliam  {Temple  79 

After  Socrates,  who  left  nothing  in  writing, 
many  sects  of  philosophers  began  to  spread  in 
Greece,  who  entered  boldly  upon  both  parts 
of  natural  and  moral  philosophy.  The  first 
with  the  greatest  disagreement,  and  the  most 
eager  contention  that  could  be  upon  the  greatest 
subjects :  as,  whether  the  world  were  eternal,  or 
produced  at  some  certain  time  ?  whether,  if  pro- 
duced, it  was  by  some  eternal  Mind,  and  to 
some  end,  or  by  the  fortuitous  concourse  of 
atoms,  or  some  particles  of  eternal  matter? 
whether  there  was  one  world,  or  many  ?  whether 
the  soul  of  man  was  a  part  of  some  ethereal  and 
eternal  substance,  or  was  corporeal?  whether, 
if  eternal,  it  was  so  before  it  came  into  the 
body,  or  only  after  it  went  out?  There  were 
the  same  contentions  about  the  motions  of  the 
heavens,  the  magnitude  of  the  celestial  bodies, 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  the  judgment  of 
the  senses.  But  all  the  different  schemes  of  na- 
ture that  have  been  drawn  of  old,  or  of  late,  by 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Kpicurus,  Descartes,  Hobbes, 
or  any  other  that  I  know  of,  seem  to  agree  but 
in  one  thing,  which  is,  the  want  of  demonstra- 
tion or  satisfaction  to  any  thinking  and  un- 
possessed man ;  and  seem  more  or  less  probable 
one  than  another,  according  to  the  wit  and 
eloquence  of  the  authors  and  advocates  that 
raise  or  defend  them ;  like  jugglers'  tricks,  that 


80  ftbe  (Barren 


have  more  or  less  appearance  of  being  real, 
according  to  the  dexterousness  and  skill  of  him 
that  plays  them ;  whereas  perhaps,  if  we  were 
capable  of  knowing  truth  and  nature,  these  fine 
schemes  would  prove  like  rover  shots,  some 
nearer  and  some  farther  off,  but  all  at  great 
distance  from  the  mark;  it  may  be,  none  in 
sight. 

Yet,  in  the  midst  of  these  and  many  other 
such  disputes  and  contentions  in  their  natural 
philosophy,  they  seemed  to  agree  much  better 
in  their  moral ;  and,  upon  their  inquiries  after 
the  ultimate  end  of  man,  which  was  his  happi- 
ness, their  contentions  or  differences  seemed  to 
be  rather  in  words,  than  in  the  sense  of  their 
opinions,  or  in  the  true  meaning  of  their  several 
authors  or  masters  of  their  sects  :  all  concluded 
that  happiness  was  the  chief  good,  and  ought 
to  be  the  ultimate  end  of  man  ;  that,  as  this  was 
the  end  of  wisdom,  so  wisdom  was  the  way  to 
happiness.  The  question  then  was,  in  what 
this  happiness  consisted.  The  contention  grew 
warmest  between  the  Stoics  and  the  Epicureans ; 
the  other  sects,  in  this  point,  siding  in  a  man- 
ner with  one  or  the  other  of  these  in  their  con- 
ceptions or  expressions.  The  Stoics  would 
have  it  to  consist  in  virtue,  and  the  Epicureans 
in  pleasure  ;  yet  the  most  reasonable  of  the 
Stoics  made  the  pleasure  of  virtue  to  be  the 


Sir  William  {Temple  81 

greatest  happiness,  and  the  best  of  the  Epi- 
cureans made  the  greatest  pleasure  to  consist 
in  virtue  ;  and  the  difference  between  these  two 
seems  not  easily  discovered.  All  agreed,  the 
greatest  temper,  if  not  the  total  subduing  of 
passion,  and  exercise  of  reason,  to  be  the  state 
of  the  greatest  felicity ;  to  live  without  desires 
or  fears,  or  those  perturbations  of  mind  and 
thought  which  passions  raise  ;  to  place  true 
riches  in  wanting  little,  rather  than  in  possess- 
ing much ;  and  true  pleasure  in  temperance, 
rather  than  in  satisfying  the  senses ;  to  live 
with  indifference  to  the  common  enjoyments 
and  accidents  of  life,  and  with  constancy  upon 
the  greatest  blows  of  fate  or  of  chance ;  not  to 
disturb  our  minds  with  sad  reflections  upon 
what  is  past,  nor  with  anxious  cares  or  raving 
hopes  about  what  is  to  come  ;  neither  to 
disquiet  life  with  the  fears  of  death,  nor  death 
with  the  desires  of  life  ;  but  in  both,  and  in  all 
things  else,  to  follow  nature, — seem  to  be  the 
precepts  most  agreed  among  them. 

Thus  reason  seems  only  to  have  been  called 
in  to  allay  those  disorders  which  itself  had 
raised,  to  cure  its  own  wounds,  and  pretends  to 
make  us  wise  no  other  way  than  by  rendering 
us  insensible.  This  at  least  was  the  profession 
of  many  rigid  Stoics,  who  would  have  had  a 
wise  man,  not  only  without  any  sort  of  passion, 


82  Gbe  <3arfcen 


but  without  any  sense  of  pain  as  well  as  pleas- 
ure :  and  to  enjoy  himself  in  the  midst  of  dis- 
eases and  torments,  as  well  as  of  health  and 
ease  :  a  principle,  in  my  mind,  against  common 
nature  and  common  sense  ;  and  which  might 
have  told  us  in  fewer  words,  or  with  less  circum- 
stance that  aman,  to  be  wise,  should  not  be  a  man ; 
and  this  perhaps  might  have  been  easy  enough 
to  believe,  but  nothing  so  hard  as  the  other. 

The  Epicureans  were  more  intelligible  in 
their  notion,  and  fortunate  in  their  expression, 
when  they  placed  a  man's  happiness  in  the 
tranquillity  of  mind  and  indolence  of  body  ;  for 
while  we  are  composed  of  both,  I  doubt  both 
must  have  a  share  in  the  good  or  ill  we  feel. 
As  men  of  several  languages  say  the  same  things 
in  very  different  words,  so  in  several  ages,  coun- 
tries, constitutions  of  laws  and  religion,  the 
same  thing  seems  to  be  meant  by  very  different 
expressions  :  what  is  called  by  the  Stoics  apa- 
thy or  dispassion,  by  the  Sceptics  indisturb- 
ance,  by  the  Molinists  quietism,  by  common 
men  peace  of  conscience,  seems  all  to  mean 
but  great  tranquillity  of  mind,  though  it  be 
made  to  proceed  from  so  diverse  causes,  as 
human  wisdom,  innocence  of  life,  or  resignation 
to  the  will  of  God.  An  old  usurer  had  the  same 
notion,  when  he  said  :  No  man  could  have  peace 
of  conscience,  that  run  out  of  his  estate ;  not 


Sit  William  temple  83 

comprehending  what  else  was  meant  by  that 
phrase  besides  true  quiet  and  content  of  mind  ; 
which,  however  expressed,  is,  I  suppose,  meant 
by  all  to  be  the  best  account  that  can  be  given 
of  the  happiness  of  man,  since  no  man  can  pre- 
tend to  be  happy  without  it. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  such  sharp  and 
violent  invectives  came  to  be  made  so  generally 
against  Epicurus  by  the  ages  that  followed  him, 
whose  admirable  wit,  felicity  of  expression,  ex- 
cellence of  nature,  sweetness  of  conversation, 
temperance  of  life,  and  constancy  in  death 
made  him  so  beloved  by  his  friends,  admired  by 
his  scholars,  and  honored  by  the  Athenians. 
But  this  injustice  may  be  fastened  chiefly  upon 
the  envy  and  malignity  of  the  Stoics  at  first, 
then  upon  the  mistakes  of  some  gross  pretend- 
ers to  his  sect  (who  took  pleasure  only  to  be 
sensual),  and  afterwards,  upon  the  piety  of  the 
primitive  Christians,  who  esteemed  his  princi- 
ples of  natural  philosophy  more  opposite  to 
those  of  our  religion,  than  either  the  Platonists, 
the  Peripatetics,  or  Stoics  themselves  :  yet,  I 
confess,  I  do  not  know  why  the  account  given 
by  Lucretius  of  the  gods  should  be  thought 
more  impious  than  that  given  by  Homer,  who 
makes  them  not  only  subject  to  all  the  weakest 
passions,  but  perpetually  busy  in  all  the  worst 
or  meanest  actions  of  men. 


84  tTbe  (Barren 


But  Epicurus  has  found  so  great  advocates  of 
his  virtue,  as  well  as  learning  and  inventions, 
that  there  need  no  more  ;  and  the  testimonies  of 
Diogenes  Laertius  alone  seem  too  sincere  and 
impartial  to  be  disputed,  or  to  want  the  assist- 
ance of  modern  authors  ;  if  all  failed,  he  would 
be  but  too  well  defended  by  the  excellence  of  so 
many  of  his  sect  in  all  ages,  and  especially  of 
those  who  lived  in  the  compass  of  one,  but  the 
greatest  in  story,  both  as  to  persons  and  events  : 
I  need  name  no  more  than  Caesar,  Atticus, 
Maecenas,  I/ucretius,  Virgil,  Horace  ;  all  admira- 
ble in  their  several  kinds,  and  perhaps  unpar- 
alleled in  story. 

Caesar,  if  considered  in  all  lights,  may  justly 
challenge  the  first  place  in  the  registers  we 
have  of  mankind,  equal  only  to  himself,  and 
surpassing  all  others  of  his  nation  and  his  age, 
in  the  virtues  and  excellences  of  a  statesman, 
a  captain,  an  orator,  an  historian  ;  besides  all 
these,  a  poet,  a  philosopher,  when  his  leisure 
allowed  him  ;  the  greatest  man  of  counsel  and 
of  action,  of  design  and  execution  ;  the  greatest 
nobleness  of  birth,  of  person,  and  of  counte- 
nance ;  the  greatest  humanity  and  clemency  of 
nature,  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  provoca- 
tions, occasions,  and  examples  of  cruelty  and 
revenge  :  it  is  true,  he  overturned  the  laws  and 
constitutions  of  his  country,  yet  it  was  after  so 


Sir  TOtlfam  {Temple  85 

many  others  had  not  only  begun,  but  proceeded 
very  far,  to  change  and  violate  them  ;  so  as,  in 
what  he  did,  he  seems  rather  to  have  prevented 
others,  than  to  have  done  what  himself  de- 
signed ;  for  though  his  ambition  was  vast,  yet  it 
seems  to  have  been  raised  to  those  heights, 
rather  by  the  insolence  of  his  enemies  than  by 
his  own  temper ;  and  that  what  was  natural  to 
him  was  only  a  desire  of  true  glory,  and  to 
acquire  it  by  good  actions  as  well  as  great,  by 
conquests  of  barbarous  nations,  extent  of  the 
Roman  empire  ;  defending  at  first  the  liberties 
of  the  plebeians,  opposing  the  faction  that  had 
begun  in  Sylla  and  ended  in  Pompey  ;  and,  in 
the  whole  course  of  his  victories  and  successes, 
seeking  all  occasions  of  bounty  to  his  friends, 
and  clemency  to  his  enemies. 

Atticus  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  wisest 
and  best  of  the  Romans  ;  learned  without  pre- 
tending, good  without  affectation,  bountiful 
without  design,  a  friend  to  all  men  in  misfor- 
tune, a  flatterer  to  no  man  in  greatness  or 
power,  a  lover  of  mankind,  and  beloved  by 
them  all  ;  and  by  these  virtues  and  dispositions, 
he  passed  safe  and  untouched  through  all  the 
flames  of  civil  dissensions  that  ravaged  his 
country  the  greatest  part  of  his  life ;  and, 
though  he  never  entered  into  any  public  affairs 
or  particular  factions  of  his  state,  yet  he  was 


86  tTbe  (Barren 


favored,  honored,  and  courted  by  them  all,  from 
Sylla  to  Augustus. 

Maecenas  was  the  wisest  counsellor,  the 
truest  friend  both  of  his  prince  and  his  coun- 
try, the  best  governor  of  Rome,  the  happiest 
and  ablest  negotiator,  the  best  judge  of  learning 
and  virtue,  the  choicest  in  his  friends,  and  thereby 
the  happiest  in  his  conversation,  that  has  been 
known  in  story  ;  and  I  think,  to  his  conduct  in 
civil,  and  Agrippa's  in  military  affairs,  may  be 
truly  ascribed  all  the  fortunes  and  greatness  of 
Augustus,  so  much  celebrated  in  the  world. 

For  I^ucretius,  Virgil,  and  Horace,  they  de- 
serve, in  my  opinion,  the  honor  of  the  greatest 
philosophers,  as  well  as  the  best  poets  of  their 
nation  or  age.  The  two  first,  besides  what 
looks  like  something  more  than  human  in  their 
poetry,  were  very  great  naturalists,  and  admira- 
ble in  their  morals :  and  Horace,  besides  the 
sweetness  and  elegancy  of  his  lyrics,  appears,  in 
the  rest  of  his  writings,  so  great  a  master  of 
life,  and  of  true  sense  in  the  conduct  of  it,  that 
I  know  none  beyond  him.  It  was  no  mean 
strain  of  his  philosophy,  to  refuse  being  secre- 
tary to  Augustus,  when  so  great  an  emperor  so 
much  desired  it.  But  all  the  different  sects  of 
philosophers  seem  to  have  agreed  in  the  opinion 
of  a  wise  man's  abstaining  from  public  affairs, 
which  is  thought  the  meaning  of  Pythagoras* 


Sir  TKIliltiam  {Temple  87 

precept,  to  abstain  from  beans,  by  which  the 
affairs  or  public  resolutions  in  Athens  were 
managed.  They  thought  that  sort  of  business 
too  gross  and  material  for  the  abstracted  fine- 
ness of  their  speculations.  They  esteemed  it 
too  sordid  and  too  artificial  for  the  cleanness 
and  simplicity  of  their  manners  and  lives. 
They  would  have  no  part  in  the  faults  of  a  gov- 
ernment ;  and  they  knew  too  well,  that  the 
nature  and  passions  of  men  made  them  incapa- 
ble of  any  that  was  perfect  and  good  ;  and 
therefore  thought  all  the  service  they  could  do 
to  the  state  they  lived  under,  was  to  mend  the 
lives  and  manners  of  particular  men  that  com- 
posed it.  But  where  factions  were  once  entered 
and  rooted  in  a  state,  they  thought  it  madness 
for  good  men  to  meddle  with  public  affairs  ; 
which  made  them  turn  their  thoughts  and  enter- 
tainments to  any  thing  rather  than  this  ;  and 
Heraclitus,  having,  upon  the  factions  of  the 
citizens,  quitted  the  government  of  his  city,  and 
amusing  himself  to  play  with  the  boys  in  the 
porch  of  the  temple,  asked  those  who  wondered 
at  him,  whether  it  was  not  better  to  play  with 
such  boys,  than  govern  such  men.  But  above 
all,  they  esteemed  public  business  the  most 
contrary  of  all  others  to  that  tranquillity  of 
mind  which  they  esteemed  and  taught  to  be 
the  only  true  felicity  of  man. 


88  ftbe  Garden 


For  this  reason  Kpicurus  passed  his  life  whol- 
ly in  his  garden  :  there  he  studied,  there  he  exer- 
cised, there  he  taught  his  philosophy  ;  and, 
indeed,  no  other  sort  of  abode  seems  to  con- 
tribute so  much  to  both  the  tranquillity  of  mind 
and  indolence  of  body,  which  he  made  his 
chief  ends.  The  sweetness  of  air,  the  pleasant- 
ness of  smell,  the  verdure  of  plants,  the  clean- 
ness and  lightness  of  food,  the  exercises  of 
working  or  walking  ;  but  above  all,  the  exemp- 
tion from  cares  and  solicitude,  seem  equally  to 
favor  and  improve  both  contemplation  and 
health,  the  enjoyment  of  sense  and  imagina- 
tion, and  thereby  the  quiet  and  ease  both  of  the 
body  and  mind. 

Though  Epicurus  be  said  to  have  been  the 
first  that  had  a  garden  in  Athens,  whose  citizens 
before  him  had  theirs  in  their  villas  or  farms 
without  the  city,  yet  the  use  of  gardens  seems 
to  have  been  the  most  ancient  and  most  gen- 
eral of  any  sorts  of  possession  among  mankind, 
and  to  have  preceded  those  of  corn  or  of  cattle, 
as  yielding  the  easier,  the  pleasanter,  and  more 
natural  food.  As  it  has  been  the  inclination 
of  kings  and  the  choice  of  philosophers,  so  it 
has  been  the  common  favorite  of  public  and 
private  men  ;  a  pleasure  of  the  greatest,  and 
the  care  of  the  meanest ;  and  indeed  an  em- 


Sir  militant  tTemple  89 

ployment  and  a  possession,  for  which  no  man 
is  too  high  nor  too  low. 

If  we  believe  the  Scripture,  we  must  allow 
that  God  Almighty  esteemed  the  life  of  a  man 
in  a  garden  the  happiest  he  could  give  him,  or 
else  he  would  not  have  placed  Adam  in  that  of 
Eden  ;  that  it  was  the  state  of  innocence  and 
pleasure  ;  and  that  the  life  of  husbandry  and 
cities  came  after  the  fall,  with  guilt  and  with 
labor. 

Where  paradise  was,  has  been  much  debated, 
and  little  agreed  ;  but  what  sort  of  place  is 
meant  by  it  may  perhaps  easier  be  conjectured. 
It  seems  to  have  been  a  Persian  word,  since 
Xenophon  and  other  Greek  authors  mention 
it,  as  what  was  much  in  use  and  delight  among 
the  kings  of  those  Eastern  countries.  Strabo, 
describing  Jericho,  says  :  "  Ibiestpalmetum,  cui 
immixtae  sunt  etiam  alice  stirpes  hortenses, 
locus  ferax ,  palmis  abundans,  spatio  stadiorum 
centum,  totus  irriguus,  ibi  est  regi  et  balsami 
paradisus"  He  mentions  another  place  to  be 
"  prope  libanum  etparadisum. ' '  And  Alexander 
is  written  to  have  seen  Cyrus'  tomb  in  para- 
dise, being  a  tower  not  very  great,  and  covered 
with  a  shade  of  trees  about  it.  So  that  a  para- 
dise among  them  seems  to  have  been  a  large 
space  of  ground,  adorned  and  beautified  with 


go  {The  (BarDcrt 


all  sorts  of  trees,  both  of  fruits  and  of  forest, 
either  found  there  before  it  was  inclosed,  or 
planted  thereafter ;  either  cultivated  like  gar- 
dens, for  shades  and  for  walks,  with  fountains 
or  streams,  and  all  sorts  of  plants  usual  in  the 
climate,  and  pleasant  to  the  eye,  the  smell,  or 
the  taste  ;  or  else  employed  like  our  parks,  for 
inclosure  and  harbor  of  all  sorts  of  wild  beasts, 
as  well  as  for  the  pleasure  of  riding  and 
walking  ;  and  so  they  were  of  more  or  less  ex- 
tent, and  of  different  entertainment,  according 
to  the  several  humors  of  the  princes  that 
ordered  and  inclosed  them. 

Senriramis  is  the  first  we  are  told  of  in  story, 
that  brought  them  in  use  through  her  empire, 
and  was  so  fond  of  them  as  to  make  one  wher- 
ever she  built,  and  in  all,  or  most  of  the  prov- 
inces she  subdued,  which  are  said  to  have  been 
from  Babylon  as  far  as  India.  The  Assyrian 
kings  continued  this  custom  and  care,  or  rather 
this  pleasure,  till  one  of  them  brought  in  the 
use  of  smaller  and  more  regular  gardens  ;  for 
having  married  a  wife  he  was  fond  of,  out  of 
one  of  the  provinces,  where  such  paradises  or 
gardens  were  much  in  use,  and  the  country 
lady  not  well  bearing  the  air  or  inclosure  of 
the  palace  in  Babylon,  to  which  the  Assyrian 
kings  used  to  confine  themselves,  he  made  her 
gardens,  not  only  within  the  palaces,  but  upon 


Sir  TOlttam  {Temple  91 

terraces  raised  with  earth,  over  the  arched 
roofs,  and  even  upon  the  top  of  the  highest 
tower,  planted  them  with  all  sorts  of  fruit- 
trees,  as  well  as  other  plants  and  flowers,  the 
most  pleasant  of  that  country  ;  and  thereby 
made  at  least  the  most  airy  gardens,  as  well  as 
the  most  costly  that  have  ever  been  heard  of  in 
the  world.  This  lady  may  probably  have  been 
a  native  of  the  provinces  of  Chasimer  or  Damas- 
cus, which  have  in  all  times  been  the  happiest 
regions  for  fruits  of  all  the  east,  by  the  excel- 
lence of  soil,  the  position  of  mountains,  the 
frequency  of  streams,  rather  than  the  advan- 
tages of  climate.  And  it  is  great  pity  we  do 
not  yet  see  the  history  of  Chasimer,  which 
Monsieur  Bernier  assured  me  he  had  translated 
out  of  Persian,  and  intended  to  publish,  and 
of  which  he  has  given  such  a  taste,  in  his  ex- 
cellent memoirs  of  the  Mogul's  country. 

The  next  gardens  we  read  of  are  those  of 
Solomon,  planted  with  all  sorts  of  fruit-trees, 
and  watered  with  fountains  ;  and  though  we 
have  no  more  particular  description  of  them, 
yet  we  may  find  they  were  the  places  where  he 
passed  the  times  of  his  leisure  and  delight, 
where  the  houses  as  well  as  grounds  were 
adorned  with  all  that  could  be  of  pleasing  and 
elegant,  and  were  the  retreats  and  entertain- 
ments of  those  among  his  wives  that  he  loved 


92  ttbe  (Barfcett 


the  best ;  and  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the 
paradises  mentioned  by  Strabo  were  planted  by 
this  great  and  wisest  king.  But  the  idea  of  the 
garden  must  be  very  great,  if  it  answer  at  all  to 
that  of  the  gardener,  who  must  have  employed 
a  great  deal  of  his  care  and  of  his  study,  as 
well  as  of  his  leisure  and  thought,  in  these  en- 
tertainments, since  he  writ  of  all  plants,  from 
the  cedar  to  the  shrub. 

What  the  gardens  of  the  Hesperides  were, 
we  have  little  or  no  account,  further  than  the 
mention  of  them,  and  thereby  the  testimony  of 
their  having  been  in  use  and  request  in  such 
remoteness  of  place  and  antiquity  of  time. 

The  garden  of  Alcinous,  described  by  Homer, 
seems  wholly  poetical,  and  made  at  the  pleasure 
of  the  painter,  like  the  rest  of  the  romantic 
palace  in  that  little  barren  island  of  Phseacia 
or  Corfu.  Yet,  as  all  the  pieces  of  this  tran- 
scendent genius  are  composed  with  excellent 
knowledge,  as  well  as  fancy,  so  they  seldom 
fail  of  instruction  as  well  as  delight,  to  all  that 
read  him.  The  seat  of  this  garden,  joining  to 
the  gates  of  the  palace,  the  compass  of  the  in- 
closure  being  four  acres,  the  tall  trees  of  shade, 
as  well  as  those  of  fruit,  the  two  fountains,  the 
one  for  the  use  of  the  garden,  and  the  other  of 
the  palace,  the  continual  succession  of  fruits 
throughout  the  whole  year  are,  for  aught  I 


Sir  William  ^Temple  93 

know,  the  best  rules  or  provisions  that  can 
go  towards  composing  the  best  gardens  ;  nor  is 
it  unlikely  that  Homer  may  have  drawn  this 
picture  after  the  life  of  some  he  had  seen  in 
Ionia,  the  country  and  usual  abode  of  this 
divine  poet,  and,  indeed,  the  region  of  the 
most  refined  pleasure  and  luxury,  as  well  as 
invention  and  wit :  for  the  humor  and  custom 
of  gardens  may  have  descended  earlier  into  the 
Lower  Asia,  from  Damascus,  Assyria,  and  other 
parts  of  the  eastern  empires,  though  they  seem 
to  have  made  late  entrance  and  smaller  im- 
provement in  those  of  Greece  and  Rome  ;  at 
least  in  no  proportion  to  their  other  inventions 
or  refinements  of  pleasure  and  luxury. 

The  long  and  flourishing  peace  of  the  two 
first  empires  gave  earlier  rise  and  growth  to 
learning  and  civility,  and  all  the  consequences 
of  them,  in  magnificence  and  elegancy  of 
building  and  gardening,  whereas  Greece  and 
Rome  were  almost  perpetually  engaged  in 
quarrels  and  wars  either  abroad  or  at  home, 
and  so  were  busy  in  actions  that  were  done 
under  the  sun,  rather  than  those  under  the 
shade.  These  were  the  entertainments  of  the 
softer  nations  that  fell  under  the  virtue  and 
prowess  of  the  two  last  empires,  which  from 
those  conquests  brought  home  mighty  in- 
creases both  of  riches  and  luxury,  and  so 


94  Gbe  <3att>en 


perhaps  lost  more  than  they  got  by  the  spoils 
of  the  east. 

There  may  be  another  reason  for  the  small 
advance  of  gardening  in  those  excellent  and 
more  temperate  climates,  where  the  air  and  soil 
were  so  apt  of  themselves  to  produce  the  best 
sorts  of  fruits,  without  the  necessity  of  culti- 
vating them  by  labor  and  care  ;  whereas  the 
hotter  climates,  as  well  as  the  cold,  are  forced 
upon  industry  and  skill,  to  produce  or  im- 
prove many  fruits  that  grow  of  themselves  in 
the  more  temperate  regions.  However  it  were, 
we  have  very  little  mention  of  gardens  in  old 
Greece  or  in  old  Rome,  for  pleasure  or  with 
elegance,  nor  of  much  curiousness  or  care,  to 
introduce  the  fruits  of  foreign  climates,  con- 
tenting themselves  with  those  which  were 
native  of  their  own  ;  and  these  were  the  vine, 
the  olive,  the  fig,  the  pear,  and  the  apple. 
Cato,  as  I  remember,  mentions  no  more,  and 
their  gardens  were  then  but  the  necessary  part 
of  their  farms,  intended  particularly  for  the 
cheap  and  easy  food  of  their  hinds  or  slaves 
employed  in  their  agriculture,  and  so  were 
turned  chiefly  to  all  the  common  sorts  of 
plants,  herbs,  or  legumes  (as  the  French 
call  them)  proper  for  common  nourishment ; 
and  the  name  of  hortus  is  taken  to  be  from 
ortus,  because  it  perpetually  furnishes  some 


Sir  TKHtlliam  temple  95 

rise  or  production  of  something  new  in  the 
world. 

lyucullus,  after  the  Mithridatic  war,  first 
brought  cherries  from  Pontus  into  Italy,  which  so 
generally  pleased  and  were  so  easily  propagated 
in  all  climates,  that  within  the  space  of  about  an 
hundred  years,  having  travelled  westward  with 
the  Roman  conquests,  they  grew  common  as 
far  as  the  Rhine,  and  passed  over  into  Britain. 
After  the  conquest  of  Africa,  Greece,  the  Lesser 
Asia,  and  Syria,  were  brought  into  Italy  all  the 
sorts  of  their  mala,  which  we  interpret  apples, 
and  might  signify  no  more  at  first,  but  were 
afterwards  applied  to  many  other  foreign  fruits  ; 
the  apricots,  coming  from  Epire,  were  called 
'mala  Epirotica ;  peaches  from  Persia,  mala 
Persica  ;  citrons  of  Media,  Medica ;  pomegran- 
ates from  Carthage,  Punica  ;  quinces,  Cathonea^ 
from  a  small  island  in  the  Grecian  seas  ;  their 
best  pears  were  brought  from  Alexandria, 
Numidia,  Greece,  and  Numantia,  as  appears  by 
their  several  appellations  ;  their  plums,  from 
Armenia,  Syria,  but  chiefly  from  Damascus. 
The  kinds  of  these  are  reckoned,  in  Nero's 
time,  to  have  been  near  thirty,  as  well  as  of 
figs,  and  many  of  them  were  entertained  at 
Rome  with  so  great  applause,  and  so  general 
vogue,  that  the  great  captains,  and  even  con- 
sular men,  who  first  brought  them  over,  took 


96  Gbe  <3arfcen 


pride  in  giving  them  their  own  names  (by  which 
they  run  a  great  while  in  Rome),  as  in  memory 
of  some  great  service  or  pleasure  they  had  done 
their  country,  so  that  not  only  laws  and  battles, 
but  several  sorts  of  apples  or  mala,  and  of 
pears,  were  called  Manlian  and  Claudian,  Pom- 
peian  and  Tiberian,  and  by  several  other  such 
noble  names. 

Thus  the  fruits  of  Rome,  in  about  a  hun- 
dred years,  came  from  countries  as  far  as  their 
conquests  had  reached;  and,  like  learning, 
architecture,  painting,  and  statuary,  made  their 
great  advances  in  Italy  about  the  Augustan  age. 
What  was  of  most  request  in  their  common 
gardens  in  Virgil's  time,  or  at  least  in  his 
youth,  may  be  conjectured  by  the  description 
of  his  old  Cory cian's  gardens  in  the  fourth  of 
the  Georgics,  which  begins  : 

Namque  sub  CEbalifS  memini  turribus  altis. 

Among  flowers,  the  roses  had  the  first  place, 
especially  a  kind  which  bore  twice  a  year,  and 
none  other  sorts  are  here  mentioned  besides  the 
narcissus,  though  the  violet  and  the  lily  were 
very  common,  and  the  next  in  esteem,  espe- 
cially the  breve  lilium,  which  was  the  tube- 
rose. The  plants  he  mentioned  are  the  apium, 
which  though  commonly  interpreted  parsley, 
yet  comprehends  all  sorts  of  smallage,  where- 


Sir  William  {Temple  97 

of  celery  is  one  ;  cucumis,  which  takes  in  all 
sorts  of  melons,  as  well  as  cucumbers  ;  olus, 
which  is  a  common  word  for  all  sorts  of  pot- 
herbs and  legumes ;  verbenas,  which  signifies 
all  kinds  of  sweet  or  sacred  plants,  that 
were  used  for  adorning  the  altars,  as  bays, 
olive,  rosemary,  myrtle  ;  the  acanthus  seems 
to  be  what  we  called  pericanthe  ;  but  what  their 
hederce  were,  that  deserved  place  in  a  garden,  I 
cannot  guess,  unless  they  had  sorts  of  ivy  un- 
known to  us  ;  nor  what  his  vescum  papaver  was, 
since  poppies  with  us  are  of  no  use  in  eat- 
ing. The  fruits  mentioned  are  only  apples, 
pears,  and  plums,  for  olives,  vines,  and  figs 
were  grown  to  be  fruits  of  their  fields,  rather 
than  of  their  gardens.  The  shades  were  the 
elm,  the  pine,  the  lime-tree,  and  the  platanus, 
or  plane-tree,  whose  leaf  and  shade  of  all  others 
was  the  most  in  request ;  and,  having  been 
brought  out  of  Persia,  was  such  an  inclination 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  that  they  usual- 
ly fed  it  with  wine  instead  of  water ;  they  be- 
lieved this  tree  loved  that  liquor,  as  well  as 
those  that  used  to  drink  under  its  shade,  which 
was  a  great  humor  and  custom,  and  perhaps 
gave  rise  to  the  other,  by  observing  the  growth 
of  the  tree,  or  largeness  of  the  leaves,  where 
much  wine  was  spilt  or  left,  and  thrown  upon 
the  roots. 


It  is  great  pity  the  haste  which  Virgil  seems 
here  to  have  been  in  should  have  hindered  him 
from  entering  farther  into  the  account  or  in- 
structions of  gardening,  which  he  said  he  could 
have  given,  and  which  he  seems  to  have  so 
much  esteemed  and  loved,  by  that  admirable 
picture  of  this  old  man's  felicity,  which  he 
draws  like  so  great  a  master,  with  one  stroke  of 
a  pencil  in  those  four  words  : 

Regum  csquabat  opes  animis. 

That  in  the  midst  of  these  small  possessions,, 
upon  a  few  acres  of  barren  ground,  yet  he 
equalled  all  the  wealth  and  opulence  of  kings, 
in  the  ease,  content,  and  freedom  of  his  mind. 

I  am  not  satisfied  with  the  common  accepta- 
tion of  the  mala  aurea  for  oranges ;  nor  do  I  find 
any  passage  in  the  authors  of  that  age,  which 
gives  me  the  opinion,  that  these  were  otherwise 
known  to  the  .  Romans  than  as  fruits  of  the 
eastern  climates.  I  should  take  their  mala  aurea 
to  be  rather  some  kind  of  apples,  so  called  from 
the  golden  color,  as  some  are  amongst  us  ;  for 
otherwise,  the  orange-tree  is  too  noble  in  the 
beauty,  taste,  and  smell  of  its  fruit ;  in  the  per- 
fume and  virtue  of  its  flowers  ;  in  the  perpetual 
verdure  of  its  leaves,  and  in  the  excellent  uses 
of  all  these,  both  for  pleasure  and  health  ;  not  to 
have  deserved  any  particular  mention  in  the 


Sir  Timuifam  temple  99 

writings  of  an   age  and  nation  so   refined  and 
exquisite  in  all  sorts  of  delicious  luxury. 

The  charming  description  Virgil  makes  of  the 
happy  apple,  must  be  intended  either  for  the 
citron,  or  for  some  sort  of  orange  growing  in 
Media,  which  was  either  so  proper  to  that 
country  as  not  to  grow  in  any  other  (as  a  cer- 
tain sort  of  fig  was  to  Damascus),  or  to  have  lost 
its  virtue  by  changing  soils,  or  to  have  had  its 
effect  of  curing  some  sort  of  poison  that  was 
usual  in  that  country,  but  particular  to  it  :  I 
cannot  forbear  inserting  those  few  lines  out  of 
the  second  of  Virgil's  Georgics,  not  having  ever 
heard  anybody  else  take  notice  of  them. 

Media  fert  tristes  succos,  tardumque  saporem 
Felicis  mali  ;  quo  non  prcssentius  ullum, 
Pocula  si  quandu  sczvcz  infecere  noveraz, 
Auxilium  venit,  ac  membris  agit  atra  venena  : 
ipsa  ingens  arbos,faciemque  simillima  lauro  ; 
Et,  si  non  altos  latejactaret  odores, 
Laurus  erit ;  folia  haud  ullis  labentia  ventis  ; 
Flos apprima  tenax :  animas  et  olentia  Medi 
Orafovent  illo,  ac  senibus  medicantur  anhelis. 

"Media  brings  pois'nous  herbs,  and  the  flat  taste 
Of  the  bless'd  apple,  than  which  ne'er  was  found 
A  help  more  present,  when  curs'd  step-dames  mix 
Their  mortal  cups,  to  drive  the  venom  out : 
'T  is  a  large  tree,  and  like  a  bays  in  hue  ; 
And,  did  it  not  such  odors  cast  about, 
'T  would  be  a  bays  ;  the  leaves  with  no  winds  fall; 
The  flowers  all  excel :  with  these  the  Medes 
Perfume  their  breaths,  and  cure  old  pursy  men." 


{Tbe  (Barren 


The  tree  being  so  like  a  bays  or  laurel,  the 
slow  or  dull  taste  of  the  apple,  the  virtue  of  it 
against  poison,  seem  to  describe  the  citron  :  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers  and  virtues  of  them,  to 
cure  ill  scents  of  mouth  or  breath,  or  shortness 
of  wind  in  pursy  old  men,  seem  to  agree  most 
with  the  orange  :  if  flos  apprima  tenax  mean 
only  the  excellence  of  the  flower  above  all 
others,  it  may  be  intended  for  the  orange  :  if  it 
signifies  the  flowers  growing  most  upon  the 
tops  of  the  trees,  it  may  be  rather  the  citron  ; 
for  I  have  been  so  curious  as  to  bring  up  a 
citron  from  a  kernel,  which  at  twelve  years  of 
age  began  to  flower  ;  and  I  observed  all  the 
flowers  to  grow  upon  the  top  branches  of  the 
tree,  but  to  be  nothing  so  high  or  sweet-scented 
as  the  orange.  On  the  other  side,  I  have  always 
heard  oranges  to  pass  for  a  cordial  juice,  and  a 
very  great  preservative  against  the  plague, 
which  is  a  sort  of  venom  ;  so  that  I  know  not  to 
which  of  these  we  are  to  ascribe  this  lovely 
picture  of  the  happy  apple ;  but  I  am  satisfied 
by  it,  that  neither  of  them  was  at  all  common, 
if  at  all  known  in  Italy,  at  that  time,  or  long 
after,  though  the  fruit  be  now  so  frequent  there 
in  fields  (at  least  in  some  parts)  and  make  so 
common  and  delicious  a  part  of  gardening, 
even  in  these  northern  climates. 


Sir  TOllfam  {Temple 


It  is  certain  those  noble  fruits,  the  citron,  the 
orange,  and  the  lemon,  are  the  native  product 
of  those  noble  regions,  Assyria,  Media,  and 
Persia ;  and,  though  they  have  been  from 
thence  transplanted  and  propagated  in  many 
parts  of  Europe,  yet  they  have  not  arrived  at 
such  perfection  in  beauty,  taste,  or  virtue,  as  in 
their  native  soil  and  climate.  This  made  it 
generally  observed  among  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  that  the  fruits  of  the  east  far  excelled 
those  of  the  west.  And  several  writers  have 
trifled  away  their  time  in  deducing  the  reasons 
of  this  difference,  from  the  more  benign  or  pow- 
erful influence  of  the  rising  sun.  But  there  is 
nothing  more  evident  to  any  man  that  has  the 
least  knowledge  of  the  globe,  and  gives  himself 
leave  to  think,  than  the  folly  of  such  wise 
reasons,  since  the  regions,  that  are  east  to  us, 
are  west  to  some  others  ;  and  the  sun  rises  alike 
to  all  that  lie  in  the  same  latitude,  with  the 
same  heat  and  virtue  upon  its  first  approaches, 
as  well  as  in  its  progress.  Besides,  if  the  east- 
ern fruits  were  the  better  only  for  that  position 
of  climate,  then  those  of  India  should  excel 
those  of  Persia  ;  which  we  do  not  find  by  com- 
paring the  accounts  of  those  countries  :  but 
Assyria,  Media,  and  Persia  have  been  ever  es- 
teemed, and  will  be  ever  found,  the  true  regions 


102  tlbe  (Barfcen 


of  the  best  and  noblest  fruits  in  the  world. 
The  reason  of  it  can  be  no  other,  than  that  of 
an  excellent  and  proper  soil,  being  there 
extended  under  the  best  climate  for  the  produc- 
tion of  all  sorts  of  the  best  fruits  ;  which  seems 
to  be  from  about  twenty-five  to  about  thirty-five 
degrees  of  latitude.  Now  the  regions  under 
this  climate,  in  the  present  Persian  empire 
(which  comprehends  most  of  the  other  two, 
called  anciently  Assyria  ^and  Media),  are  com- 
posed of  many  provinces  full  of  great  and 
fertile  plains,  bounded  by  high  mountains, 
especially  to  the  north  ;  watered  naturally  with 
many  rivers,  and  those,  by  art  and  labor, 
derived  into  many  more  and  smaller  streams, 
which  all  conspire  to  form  a  country,  in  all 
circumstances,  the  most  proper  and  agreeable 
for  the  production  of  the  best  and  noblest 
fruits.  Whereas  if  we  survey  the  regions  of  the 
western  world,  lying  in  the  same  latitude  be- 
tween twenty-five  and  thirty-five  degrees,  we 
shall  find  them  extended  either  over  the  Medi- 
terranean Sea,  the  ocean,  or  the  sandy  barren 
countries  of  Africa  ;  and  that  no  part  of  the 
continent  of  Europe  lies  so  southward  as  thirty- 
five  degrees.  Which  may  serve  to  discover  the 
true  genuine  reason,  why  the  fruits  of  the  east 
have  been  always  observed  and  agreed  to  trans- 
cend those  of  the  west. 


Sir  TJdfllfam  (Temple  103 

In  our  northwest  climates,  our  gardens  are 
very  different  from  what  they  were  in  Greece 
and  Italy,  and  from  what  they  are  now  in  those 
regions  in  Spain  or  the  southern  parts  of  France. 
And  as  most  general  customs  in  countries  grow 
from  the  different  nature  of  climate,  soils,  or 
situations,  and  from  the  necessities  or  industry 
they  impose,  so  do  these. 

In  the  warmer  regions,  fruits  and  flowers  of 
the  best  sorts  are  so  common  and  of  so  easy 
production,  that  they  grow  in  fields,  and  are  not 
worth  the  cost  of  inclosing,  or  the  care  of  more 
than  ordinary  cultivating.  On  the  other  side, 
the  greatest  pleasures  of  these  climates  are 
coolness  of  air,  and  whatever  looks  cool  even  to 
the  eyes,  and  relieves  them  from  the  unpleas- 
ant sight  of  dusty  streets  or  parched  fields. 
This  makes  the  gardens  of  those  countries  to  be 
chiefly  valued  by  largeness  of  extent  (which 
gives  greater  play  and  openness  of  air),  by 
shades  of  trees,  by  frequency  of  living  streams 
or  fountains,  by  perspectives,  by  statues,  and  by 
pillars  and  obelisks  of  stone  scattered  up  and 
down,  which  all  conspire  to  make  any  place 
look  fresh  and  cool.  On  the  contrary,  the 
more  northern  climates,  as  they  suffer  little  by 
heat,  make  little  provision  against  it,  and  are 
careless  of  shade,  and  seldom  curious  in  foun- 
tains. Good  statues  are  in  the  reach  of  few 


104  Gbe  (Bar&ett 


men,  and  common  ones  are  generally  and  justly 
despised  or  neglected.  But  no  sorts  of  good 
fruits  or  flowers,  being  natives  of  the  climates, 
or  usual  among  us  (nor  indeed  the  best  sort  of 
plants,  herbs,  salads  for  our  kitchen-gardens 
themselves),  and  the  best  fruits,  not  ripening 
without  the  advantage  of  walls  and  palisadoes, 
by  reflection  of  the  faint  heat  we  receive  from 
the  sun,  our  gardens  are  made  of  smaller  com- 
pass, seldom  exceeding  four,  six,  or  eight  acres  ; 
enclosed  with  walls,  and  laid  out  in  a  manner 
wholly  for  advantage  of  fruits,  flowers,  and  the 
product  of  kitchen -gardens  in  all  sorts  of  herbs, 
salads,  plants,  and  legumes,  for  the  common 
use  of  tables. 

These  are  usually  the  gardens  of  England  and 
Holland,  as  the  first  sort  are  those  of  Italy,  and 
were  so  of  old.  In  the  more  temperate  parts  of 
France,  and  in  Brabant  (where  I  take  gardening 
to  be  at  its  greatest  height),  they  are  composed 
of  both  sorts,  the  extent  more  spacious  than 
ours  ;  part  laid  out  for  flowers,  others  for  fruits ; 
some  standards,  some  against  walls  or  palisa- 
does, some  for  forest  trees,  and  groves  for 
shade,  some  parts  wild,  some  exact ;  and  foun- 
tains much  in  request  among  them. 

But  after  so  much  ramble  into  ancient  timest 
and  remote  places,  to  return  home  and  consider 
the  present  way  and  humor  of  our  gardening  in 


Sir  TOlttam  ftempte  105 

England  ;  which  seem  to  have  grown  into  such 
vogue,  and  to  have  been  so  mightily  improved 
in  three  or  four  and  twenty  years  of  his  Ma- 
jesty's reign,  that  perhaps  few  countries  are 
before  us,  either  in  the  elegance  of  our  gardens, 
or  in  the  number  of  our  plants  ;  and,  I  believe, 
none  equal  us  in  the  variety  of  fruits  which  may 
be  justly  called  good  ;  and  from  the  earliest 
cherry  and  strawberry,  to  the  last  apples  and 
pears,  may  furnish  every  day  of  the  circling 
year.  For  the  taste  and  perfection  of  what  we 
esteem  the  best,  I  may  truly  say,  that  the 
French,  who  have  eaten  my  grapes  and  peaches 
at  Sheen,  in  no  very  ill  year,  have  generally 
concluded,  that  the  last  are  as  good  as  any  they 
have  eaten  in  France,  on  this  side  of  Fontaine- 
bleau  ;  and  the  first  as  good  as  any  they  have  eat 
in  Gascony  ;  I  mean  those  which  come  from  the 
stone,  and  are  properly  called  peaches,  not 
those  which  are  hard,  and  are  termed  pavies ; 
for  these  cannot  grow  in  too  warm  a  climate, 
nor  ever  be  good  in  a  cold  ;  and  are  better  at 
Madrid,  than  in  Gascony  itself.  Italians  have 
agreed,  my  white  figs  to  be  as  good  as  any  of 
that  sort  in  Italy,  which  is  the  earlier  kind  of 
white  fig  there  ;  for  in  the  latter  kind,  and  the 
blue,  we  cannot  come  near  the  warm  climates, 
no  more  than  in  the  Frontignac  or  Muscat 
grape. 


106  Gbe  (Barren 


My  orange-trees  are  as  large  as  any  I  saw 
when  I  was  young  in  France,  except  those 
of  Fontainebleau,  or  what  I  have  seen  since  in 
the  Low  Countries,  except  some  very  old  ones 
in  the  Prince  of  Orange's ;  as  laden  with 
flowers  as  any  can  well  be,  as  full  of  fruit  as  I 
suffer  or  desire  them,  and  as  well  tasted  as  are 
commonly  brought  over,  except  the  best  sorts 
of  Seville  and  Portugal.  And  thus  much  I  could 
not  but  say  in  defence  of  our  climate,  which 
is  so  much  and  so  generally  decried  abroad,  by 
those  who  never  saw  it ;  or,  if  they  have  been 
here  have  yet  perhaps  seen  no  more  of  it  than 
what  belongs  to  inns,  or  to  taverns  and  ordi- 
naries ;  who  accuse  our  country  for  their  own 
defaults,  and  speak  ill,  not  only  of  our  gardens 
and  houses,  but  of  our  humors,  our  breeding, 
our  customs  and  manners  of  life,  by  what  they 
have  observed  of  the  meaner  and  baser  sort 
of  mankind  ;  and  of  company  among  us,  be- 
cause they  wanted  themselves,  perhaps,  either 
fortune  or  birth,  either  quality  or  merit,  to 
introduce  them  among  the  good. 

I  must  needs  add  one  thing  more  in  favor  of 
our  climate,  which  I  heard  the  king  say,  and  I 
thought  new  and  right,  and  truly  like  a  king 
of  Bngland,  that  loved  and  esteemed  his  own 
country;  it  was  in  reply  to  some  of  the  com- 
pany that  were  reviling  our  climate,  and 


Sir  TOtlfam  {Temple  107 

extolling  those  of  Italy  and  Spain,  or  at  least 
of  France :  he  said,  he  thought  that  was  the  best 
climate,  where  he  could  be  abroad  in  the  air 
with  pleasure,  or  at  least  without  trouble  or 
inconvenience,  the  most  days  of  the  year,  and 
the  most  hours  of  the  day  ;  and  this,  he  thought, 
he  could  be  in  Kngland,  more  than  in  any 
country  he  knew  of  in  Europe.  And  I  believe 
it  is  true,  not  only  of  the  hot  and  cold,  but  even 
among  our  neighbors  in  France,  and  the  Low 
Countries  themselves ;  where  the  heats  or  the 
colds,  and  changes  of  seasons,  are  less  treatable 
than  they  are  with  us. 

The  truth  is,  our  climate  wants  no  heat  to 
produce  excellent  fruits ;  and  the  default  of  it 
is  only  the  short  season  of  our  heats  or  sum- 
mers, by  which  many  of  the  latter  are  left 
behind,  and  imperfect  with  us.  But  all  such 
as  are  ripe  before  the  end  of  August  are,  for 
aught  I  know,  as  good  with  us  as  anywhere 
else.  This  makes  me  esteem  the  true  region 
of  gardens  in  England,  to  be  the  compass  of 
ten  miles  about  London  ;  where  the  accidental 
warmth  of  air  from  the  fires  and  steams  of  so 
vast  a  town  makes  fruits,  as  well  as  corn,  a  great 
deal  forwarder  than  in  Hampshire  or  Wiltshire, 
though  more  southward  by  a  full  degree. 

There  are,  besides  the  temper  of  our  climate, 
two  things  particular  to  us,  that  contribute 


io8  trbe  Oarben 


much  to  the  beauty  and  elegance  of  our  gar- 
dens, which  are  the  gravel  of  our  walks,  and 
the  fineness  and  almost  perpetual  greenness  of 
our  turf.  The  first  is  not  known  anywhere  else, 
which  leaves  all  their  dry  walks,  in  other  coun- 
tries, very  unpleasant  and  uneasy.  The  other 
cannot  be  found  in  France  or  in  Holland  as  we 
have  it,  the  soil  not  admitting  that  fineness  of 
blade  in  Holland,  nor  the  sun  that  greenness  in 
France,  during  most  of  the  summer  ;  nor  indeed 
is  it  to  be  found  but  in  the  finest  of  our  soils. 

Whoever  begins  a  garden,  ought,  in  the  first 
place  and  above  all,  to  consider  the  soil,  upon 
which  the  taste  not  only  of  his  fruits,  but  his 
legumes,  and  even  herbs  and  salads,  will  wholly 
depend  ;  and  the  default  of  soil  is  without  rem- 
edy :  for,  although  all  borders  of  fruit  may  be 
made  with  what  earth  you  please  (if  you  will 
be  at  the  charge),  yet  it  must  be  renewed  in  two 
or  three  years,  or  it  runs  into  the  nature  of  the 
ground  where  it  is  brought.  Old  trees  spread 
their  roots  farther  than  anybody's  care  extends, 
or  the  forms  of  the  garden  will  allow  ;  and,  after 
all,  where  the  soil  about  you  is  ill,  the  air  is  too 
in  a  degree,  and  has  influence  upon  the  taste 
of  fruit.  What  Horace  says  of  the  productions 
of  kitchen-gardens,  under  the  name  of  caulis, 
is  true  of  all  the  best  sorts  of  fruits,  and  may 
determine  the  choice  of  soil  for  all  gardens  : 


Sir  William  aemple  109 

Caule  suburbano,  gut  siccis  crevit  in  agrts, 
Dulcior ;  irriguis  nihil  est  elutius  hortis. 
"Plants  from  dry  fields  those  of  the  town  excel ; 
Nothing  more  tasteless  is  than  watered  grounds." 

Any  man  had  better  throw  away  his  care  and 
his  money  upon  any  thing  else,  than  upon  a 
garden  in  wet  or  moist  ground.  Peaches  and 
grapes  will  have  no  taste  but  upon  a  sand  or 
gravel;  but  the  richer  these  are,  the  better; 
and  neither  salads,  pease,  or  beans,  have  at  all 
the  taste  upon  a  clay  or  rich  earth,  as  they  have 
upon  either  of  the  others,  though  the  size  and 
color  of  fruits  and  plants  may,  perhaps,  be  more 
upon  the  worse  soils. 

Next  to  your  choice  of  soil,  is  to  suit  your 
plants  to  your  ground,  since  of  this  every  one 
is  not  master  :  though  perhaps  Varro's  judg- 
ment, upon  this  case,  is  the  wisest  and  the  best; 
for  to  one  that  asked  him,  what  he  should  do  if 
his  father  or  ancestors  had  left  him  a  seat  in  an 
ill  air,  or  upon  an  ill  soil,  he  answered  :  "  Why, 
sell  it,  and  buy  another  in  good."  "  But  what 
if  I  cannot  get  half  the  worth  ?  "  "  Why,  then 
take  a  quarter  ;  but  however  sell  it  for  any 
thing,  rather  than  live  upon  it." 

Of  all  sorts  of  soil,  the  best  is  that  upon  a 
sandy  gravel,  or  a  rosiny  sand ;  whoever  lies 
upon  either  of  these  may  run  boldly  into  all  the 
best  sort  of  peaches  and  grapes,  how  shallow 


Gbe  (Barfcen 


soever  the  turf  be  upon  them ;  and  whatever 
other  tree  will  thrive  in  these  soils,  the  fruits 
shall  be  of  a  much  finer  taste  than  any  other ; 
a  richer  soil  will  do  well  enough  for  apricots, 
plums,  pears,  or  figs  ;  but  still  the  more  of  the 
sand  in  your  earth  the  better,  and  the  worse 
the  more  of  the  clay,  which  is  proper  for  oaks, 
and  no  other  tree  that  I  know  of. 

Fruits  should  be  suited  to  the  climate  among 
us,  as  well  as  the  soil ;  for  there  are  degrees  of 
one  and  the  other  in  England,  where  it  is  to 
little  purpose  to  plant  any  of  the  best  fruits, 
as  peaches  or  grapes,  hardly  I  doubt  beyond 
Northamptonshire,  at  the  farthest  northwards ; 
and  I  thought  it  very  prudent  in  a  gentleman 
of  my  friends  in  Staffordshire,  who  is  a  great 
lover  of  his  garden,  to  pretend  no  higher, 
though  his  soil  be  good  enough,  than  to  the 
perfection  of  plums  ;  and  in  these  (by  bestowing 
south  walls  upon  them)  he  has  very  well  suc- 
ceeded, which  he  could  never  have  done  in 
attempts  upon  peaches  and  grapes  ;  and  a  good 
plum  is  certainly  better  that  an  ill  peach. 

When  I  was  at  Cosevelt,  with  that  bishop  of 
Munste*-  that  made  so  much  noise  in  his  time, 
I  observed  no  other  trees  but  cherries  in  a  great 
garden  he  had  made.  He  told  me  the  reason 
was  because  he  found  no  other  fruit  would 
ripen  well  in  that  climate,  or  upon  that  soil ; 


Sir  TKHfllfam  temple 


and  therefore,  instead  of  being  curious  in 
others,  he  had  only  been  so  in  the  sorts  of  that, 
whereof  he  had  so  many,  as  never  to  be  without 
them  from  May  to  the  end  of  September. 

As  to  the  size  of  a  garden,  which  will,  per- 
haps, in  time,  grow  extravagant  among  us,  I 
think  from  four  or  five  to  seven  or  eight  acres 
is  as  much  as  any  gentleman  need  design,  and 
will  furnish  as  much  of  all  that  is  expected 
from  it,  as  any  nobleman  will  have  occasion  to 
use  in  his  family. 

In  every  garden  four  things  are  necessary  to 
be  provided  for  :  flowers,  fruit,  shade,  and 
water  ;  and  whoever  lays  out  a  garden,  without 
all  these,  must  not  pretend  in  it  any  perfection  ; 
it  ought  to  lie  to  the  best  parts  of  the  house,  or 
to  those  of  the  master's  commonest  use,  so  as  to 
be  but  like  one  of  the  rooms  out  of  which  you 
step  into  another.  The  part  of  your  garden  next 
your  house  (besides  the  walks  that  go  round  it) 
should  be  a  parterre  for  flowers,  or  grass-plots 
bordered  with  flowers;  or  if,  according  to  the 
newest  mode,  it  be  cast  all  into  grass-plots  and 
gravel  walks,  the  dryness  of  these  should  be 
relieved  with  fountains,  and  the  plainness  of 
those  with  statues  ;  otherwise,  if  large,  they 
have  an  ill  effect  upon  the  eye.  However,  the 
part  next  the  house  should  be  open,  and  no 
other  fruit  but  upon  the  walls.  If  this  take  up 


(Sarfcen 


one  half  of  the  garden,  the  other  should  be 
fruit-trees,  unless  some  grove  for  shade  lie  in 
the  middle.  If  it  take  up  a  third  part  only, 
then  the  next  third  may  be  dwarf- trees,  and  the 
last  standard  fruit ;  or  else  the  second  part  fruit- 
trees,  and  the  third  all  sorts  of  winter-greens, 
which  provide  for  all  seasons  of  the  year. 

I  will  not  enter  upon  any  account  of  flowers, 
having  only  pleased  myself  with  seeing  or 
smelling  them,  and  not  troubled  myself  with 
the  care,  which  is  more  the  ladies'  part  than 
the  men's ;  but  the  success  is  wholly  in  the 
gardener.  For  fruits,  the  best  we  have  in 
England,  or,  I  believe,  can  ever  hope  for,  are, 
of  peaches,  the  white  and  red  maudlin,  the 
minion,  the  chevereuse,  the  ramboullet,  the 
musk,  the  admirable,  which  is  late  ;  all  the  rest 
are  either  varied  by  names,  or  not  to  be  named 
with  these,  nor  worth  troubling  a  garden,  in  my 
opinion.  Of  the  pavies  or  hard  peaches,  I  know 
none  good  here  but  the  Newington,  nor  will 
that  easily  hang  till  it  is  full  ripe.  The  forward 
peaches  are  to  be  esteemed  only  because  they 
are  early,  but  should  find  room  in  a  good  gar- 
den, at  least  the  white  and  brown  nutmeg,  the 
Persian,  and  the  violet  musk.  The  only  good 
nectarines  are  the  murry  and  the  French  ;  of 
these  there  are  two  sorts — one  very  round,  and 
the  other  something  long — but  the  round  is  the 


Sit  William  temple  113 

best ;  of  the  murry  there  are  several  sorts,  but, 
being  all  hard,  they  are  seldom  well  ripened 
with  us. 

Of  grapes,  the  best  are  the  chasselas,  which  is 
the  better  sort  of  our  white  muscadine  (as  the 
usual  name  was  about  Sheen)  ;  it  is  called  the 
pearl-grape,  and  ripens  well  enough  in  common 
years,  but  not  so  well  as  the  common  black,  or 
currant,  which  is  something  a  worse  grape. 
The  parsley  is  good,  and  proper  enough  to  our 
climate  ;  but  all  white  frontiniacs  are  difficult, 
and  seldom  ripen,  unless  in  extraordinary  sum- 
mers. 

I  have  had  the  honor  of  bringing  over  four 
sorts  into  England :  the  arboyse,  from  the 
Franche  Compte*,  which  is  a  small  white  grape, 
or  rather  runs  into  some  small  and  some  great 
upon  the  same  bunch  ;  it  agrees  well  with  our 
climate,  but  is  very  choice  in  soil,  and  must 
have  a  sharp  gravel ;  it  is  the  most  delicious  of 
all  grapes  that  are  not  muscat.  The  Burgundy, 
which  is  a  grizelin  or  pale  red,  and  of  all  others 
is  surest  to  ripen  in  our  climate,  so  that  I  have 
never  known  them  to  fail  one  summer  these 
fifteen  years,  when  all  others  have ;  and  have 
had  it  very  good  upon  the  east  wall.  A  black 
muscat,  which  is  called  the  dowager,  and  ripens 
as  well  as  the  common  white  grape.  And  the 
fourth  is  the  grizelin  frontignac,  being  of  that 


(Barren 


color,  and  the  highest  of  that  taste,  and  the 
noblest  of  all  grapes  I  ever  ate  in  England ; 
but  requires  the  hottest  wall  and  the  sharpest 
gravel ;  and  must  be  favored  by  the  summer 
too,  to  be  very  good.  All  these  are,  I  suppose, 
by  this  time,  pretty  common  among  some  gar- 
deners in  my  neighborhood,  as  well  as  several 
persons  of  quality  ;  for  I  have  ever  thought  all 
things  of  this  kind,  the  commoner  they  are 
made,  the  better. 

Of  figs  there  are  among  us  the  white,  the 
blue,  and  the  tawny  ;  the  last  is  very  small, 
bears  ill,  and  I  think  but  a  bawble.  Of  the 
blue  there  are  two  or  three  sorts,  but  little  dif- 
ferent, one  something  longer  than  the  other ; 
but  that  kind  which  smells  most  is  ever  the 
best.  Of  the  white  I  know  but  two  sorts,  and 
both  excellent,  one  ripe  in  the  beginning  of 
July,  the  other  in  the  end  of  September,  and  is 
yellower  than  the  first ;  but  this  hard  to  be 
found  among  us,  and  difficult  to  raise,  though 
an  excellent  fruit. 

Of  apricots  the  best  are  the  common  old  sort, 
and  the  largest  masculin  ;  of  which  this  last  is 
much  improved  by  budding  upon  a  peach 
stock.  I  esteem  none  of  this  fruit  but  the 
Brussels  apricot,  which  grows  a  standard,  and 
is  one  of  the  best  fruits  we  have,  and  which  I 
first  brought  over  among  us. 


Sit  William  temple  115 

The  number  of  good  pears,  especially  sum- 
mer, is  very  great,  but  the  best  are  the  blan- 
quet,  robin,  rousselet,  rosati,  sans,  pepin, 
jargonel.  Of  the  autumn,  the  buree,  the  verte- 
longue,  and  the  bergamot.  Of  the  winter,  the 
vergoluz,  chasseray,  St.  Michael,  St.  Germain, 
and  ambret.  I  esteem  the  bon-cretien  with  us 
good  for  nothing  but  to  bake. 

Of  plums,  the  best  are  St.  Julian,  St.  Cath- 
erine, white  and  blue  pedrigon,  queen-mother, 
Sheen  plum,  and  cheston. 

Beyond  the  sorts  I  have  named,  none  I  think 
need  trouble  himself,  but  multiply  these  rather 
than  make  room  for  more  kinds  ;  and  I  am 
content  to  leave  this  register,  having  been  so 
often  desired  it  by  my  friends,  upon  their  de- 
signs of  gardening. 

I  need  say  nothing  of  apples,  being  so  well 
known  among  us  ;  but  the  best  of  our  climate, 
and  I  believe  of  all  others,  is  the  golden  pip- 
pin, and  for  all  sorts  of  uses  ;  the  next  is  the 
Kentish  pippin  ;  but  these  I  think  are  as  far 
from  their  perfection  with  us  as  grapes,  and 
yield  to  those  of  Normandy,  as  these  to  those 
of  Anjou,  and  even  these  to  those  in  Gascony. 
In  other  fruits  the  defect  of  sun  is  in  a  great 
measure  supplied  by  the  advantage  of  walls. 

The  next  care  to  that  of  suiting  trees  with 
the  soil  is  that  of  suiting  fruits  to  the  position. 


n6  Gbe  (SarDen 


of  walls  :  grapes,  peaches,  and  winter-pears,  to 
be  good,  must  be  planted  upon  full  south,  or 
southeast ;  figs  are  best  upon  southeast,  but 
will  do  well  upon  east  and  southwest ;  the 
west  are  proper  for  cherries,  plums,  or  apri- 
cots, but  all  of  them  are  improved  by  a  south 
wall  both  as  to  early  and  taste  ;  north,  north- 
west, or  northeast  deserve  nothing  but  greens  ; 
these  should  be  divided  by  woodbines  or  jessa- 
mines between  every  green,  and  the  other  walls 
by  a  vine  between  every  fruit-tree  ;  the  best 
sorts  upon  the  south  walls,  the  common  white 
and  black  upon  east  and  west,  because  the 
other  trees  being  many  of  them  (especially 
peaches)  very  transitory — some  apt  to  die  with 
hard  winters,  others  to  be  cut  down  to  make 
room  for  new  fruits ;  without  this  method  the 
walls  are  left  for  several  years  unfurnished, 
whereas  the  vines  on  each  side  cover  the  void 
space  in  one  summer,  and  when  the  other  trees 
are  grown,  make  only  a  pillar  between  them 
of  two  or  three  feet  broad. 

Whoever  would  have  the  best  fruits,  in  the 
most  perfection  our  climate  will  allow,  should 
not  only  take  care  of  giving  them  as  much 
sun,  but  also  as  much  air  as  he  can  ;  no  tree, 
unless  dwarf,  should  be  suffered  to  grow  within 
forty  feet  of  your  best  walls,  but  the  farther 
they  lie  open  is  still  the  better,  Of  all  others, 


Sir  TKtlilUam  {Temple  117 

this  care  is  most  necessary  in  vines,  which  are 
observed  abroad  to  make  the  best  wines,  where 
they  lie  upon  sides  of  hills,  and  so  most  ex- 
posed to  air  and  the  winds.  The  way  of  prun- 
ing them  too  is  best  learned  from  the  vine- 
yards, where  you  see  nothing  in  winter  but 
what  looks  like  a  dead  stump  ;  and  upon  our 
walls  they  should  be  left  but  like  a  ragged 
staff,  not  above  two  or  three  eyes  at  most  upon 
the  bearing  branches,  and  the  lower  the  vine 
and  fewer  the  branches,  the  grapes  will  be  still 
the  better. 

The  best  figure  of  a  garden  is  either  a  square 
or  an  oblong,  and  either  upon  a  flat  or  a  de- 
scent ;  they  have  all  their  beauties,  but  the 
best  I  esteem  an  oblong  upon  a  descent.  The 
beauty,  the  air,  the  view  make  amends  for  the 
expense,  which  is  very  great  in  finishing  and 
supporting  the  terrace-walks,  in  levelling  the 
parterres,  and  in  the  stone  stairs  that  are  neces- 
sary from  one  to  the  other. 

The  perfectest  figure  of  a  garden  I  ever  saw, 
either  at  home  or  abroad,  was  that  of  Moor 
Park  in  Hertfordshire,  when  I  knew  it  about 
thirty  years  ago.  It  was  made  by  the  Countess 
of  Bedford,  esteemed  among  the  greatest  wits 
of  her  time,  and  celebrated  by  Doctor  Donne, 
and  with  very  great  care,  excellent  contrivance, 
uch  cost ;  but  greater  sums  may  be  thrown 


tlbe  (Barben 


away  without  effect  or  honor,  if  there  want 
sense  in  proportion  to  money,  or  if  nature  be 
not  followed,  which  I  take  to  be  the  great  rule 
in  this,  and  perhaps  in  every  thing  else,  as  far 
as  the  conduct  not  only  of  our  lives,  but  our 
governments.  And  whether  the  greatest  of 
mortal  men  should  attempt  the  forcing  of  na- 
ture, may  best  be  judged  by  observing  how 
seldom  God  Almighty  does  it  himself,  by  so 
few  true  and  undisputed  miracles  as  we  see  or 
hear  of  in  the  world.  For  my  own  part,  I  know 
not  three  wiser  precepts  for  the  conduct  either 
of  princes  or  private  man,  than 


-Servare  modum,finemque  tueri, 


Naturamque  sequi. 

Because  I  take  the  garden  I  have  named  to 
have  been  in  all  kinds  the  most  beautiful  and 
perfect,  at  least  in  the  figure  and  disposition, 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  I  will  describe  it  for  a 
model  to  those  that  meet  with  such  a  situation, 
and  are  above  the  regards  of  common  expense. 
It  lies  on  the  side  of  a  hill  (upon  which  the 
house  stands)  but  not  very  steep.  The  length 
of  the  house,  where  the  best  rooms  and  of 
most  use  or  pleasure  are,  lies  upon  the  breadth 
of  the  garden  ;  the  great  parlor  opens  into  the 
middle  of  a  terrace  gravel-walk  that  lies  even 


Sir  TOlltam  {Temple  119 

with  it,  and  which  may  be,  as  I  remember, 
about  three  hundred  paces  long,  and  broad  in 
proportion  ;  the  border  set  with  standard  lau- 
rels, and  at  large  distances,  which  have  the 
beauty  of  orange-trees,  out  of  flower  and  fruit ; 
from  this  walk  are  three  descents  by  many 
stone  steps,  in  the  middle  and  at  each  end,  into 
a  very  large  parterre.  This  is  divided  into 
quarters  by  gravel-walks,  and  adorned  with 
two  fountains  and  eight  statues  in  the  several 
quarters  ;  at  the  end  of  the  terrace-walk  are 
two  summer-houses,  and  the  sides  of  the  par- 
terre are  ranged  with  two  large  cloisters,  open 
to  the  garden,  upon  arches  of  stone,  and  end- 
ing with  two  other  summer-houses  even  with 
the  cloisters,  which  are  paved  with  stone,  and 
designed  for  walks  of  shade,  there  being  none 
other  in  the  whole  parterre.  Over  these  two 
cloisters  are  two  terraces  covered  with  lead, 
and  fenced  with  balusters,  and  the  passage  into 
these  airy  walks  is  out  of  the  two  summer- 
houses,  at  the  end  of  the  first  terrace-walk. 
The  cloister  facing  the  south  is  covered  with 
vines,  and  would  have  been  proper  for  an 
orange-house,  and  the  other  for  myrtles,  or 
other  more  common  greens,  and  had,  I  doubt 
not,  been  cast  for  that  purpose,  if  this  piece  of 
gardening  had  been  then  in  as  much  vogue  as 
it  is  now. 


Garden 


From  the  middle  of  the  parterre  is  a  descent 
by  many  steps  flying  on  each  side  of  a  grotto 
that  lies  between  them  (covered  with  lead,  and 
flat)  into  the  lower  garden,  which  is  all  fruit- 
trees,  ranged  about  the  several  quarters  of  a 
wilderness  which  is  very  shady  ;  the  walks  here 
are  all  green,  the  grotto  embellished  with  fig- 
ures of  shell-rock-work,  fountains,  and  water- 
works. If  the  hill  had  not  ended  with  the  lower 
garden,  and  the  walls  were  not  bounded  by  a 
common  way  that  goes  through  the  park,  they 
.might  have  added  a  third  quarter  of  all  greens  ; 
but  this  want  is  supplied  by  a  garden  on  the 
other  side  of  the  house,  which  is  all  of  that  sort, 
very  wild,  shady,  and  adorned  with  rough  rock- 
work  and  fountains. 

This  was  Moor  Park,  when  I  was  acquainted 
with  it,  and  the  sweetest  place,  I  think,  that  I 
have  seen  in  my  life,  either  before  or  since,  at 
home  or  abroad  ;  what  it  is  now  I  can  give  little 
account,  having  passed  through  several  hands 
that  have  made  great  changes  in  gardens  as 
well  as  houses  ;  but  the  remembrance  of  what 
it  was  is  too  pleasant  ever  to  forget,  and  there- 
fore I  do  not  believe  to  have  mistaken  the  fig- 
ure of  it,  which  may  serve  for  a  pattern  to  the 
best  gardens  of  our  manner,  and  that  are  most 
proper  for  our  country  and  climate. 

What  I  have  said,  of  the  best  forms  of  gar- 


Sir  'ddilliam  tTempIe  121 

dens  is  meant  only  of  such  as  are  in  some  sort 
regular,  for  there  may  be  other  forms  wholly 
irregular  that  may,  for  aught  I  know,  have 
more  beauty  than  any  of  the  others  ;  but  they 
must  owe  it  to  some  extraordinary  dispositions 
of  nature  in  the  seat,  or  some  great  race  of 
fancy  or  judgment  in  the  contrivance,  which 
may  reduce  many  disagreeing  parts  into  some 
figure  which  shall  yet,  upon  the  whole,  be  very 
agreeable.  Something  of  this  I  have  seen  in 
some  places,  but  heard  more  of  it  from  others 
who  have  lived  much  among  the  Chinese — a 
people  whose  way  of  thinking  seems  to  lie  as 
wide  of  ours  in  Europe  as  their  country  does. 
Among  us  the  beauty  of  building  and  planting 
is  placed  chiefly  in  some  certain  proportions, 
symmetries,  or  uniformities — our  walks  and  our 
trees  ranged  so  as  to  answer  one  another,  and 
at  exact  distances.  The  Chinese  scorn  this 
way  of  planting,  and  say,  a  boy,  that  can  tell  an 
hundred,  may  plant  walks  of  trees  in  straight 
lines,  and  over  against  one  another,  and  to 
what  length  and  extent  he  pleases.  But  their 
greatest  reach  of  imagination  is  employed  in 
contriving  figures,  where  the  beauty  shall  be 
great  and  strike  the  eye,  but  without  any  order 
or  disposition  of  parts  that  shall  be  commonly 
or  easily  observed  ;  and,  though  we  have  hard- 
ly any  notion  of  this  sort  of  beauty,  yet  they 


ttbe  (Batmen 


have  a  particular  word  to  express  it,  and  where 
they  find  it  hit  their  eye  at  first  sight,  they  say 
the  sharawadgi  is  fine  or  is  admirable,  or  any 
such  expression  of  esteem.  And  whoever  ob- 
serves the  work  upon  the  best  India  gowns, or  the 
painting  upon  their  best  screens  or  purcellans, 
will  find  their  beauty  is  all  of  this  kind,— that 
is,  without  order.  But  I  should  hardly  advise 
any  of  these  attempts  in  the  figure  of  gardens 
among  us  ;  they  are  adventures  of  too  hard 
achievement  for  any  common  hands ;  and, 
though  there  may  be  more  honor  if  they  suc- 
ceed well,  yet  there  is  more  dishonor  if  they 
fail,  and  it  is  twenty  to  one  they  will ;  whereas, 
in  regular  figures,  it  is  hard  to  make  any  great 
and  remarkable  faults. 

The  picture  I  have  met  with  in  some  relations 
of  a  garden  made  by  a  Dutch  governor  of  their 
colony,  upon  the  Cape  de  Bonne  Esperance,  is 
admirable,  and  described  to  be  of  an  oblong 
figure,  very  large  extent,  and  divided  into  four 
quarters  by  long  and  crossed  walks,  ranged 
with  all  sorts  of  orange-trees,  lemons,  limes, 
and  citrons ;  each  of  these  four  quarters  is 
planted  with  the  trees,  fruits,  flowers,  and 
plants  that  are  native  and  proper  to  each  of 
the  four  parts  of  the  world  ;  so  as  in  this  one 
in  closure  are  to  be  found  the  several  gardens  of 
Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  America.  There  could 


Sir  Militant  ftempte  123 

not  be,  in  my  mind,  a  greater  thought  of  a  gar- 
dener, nor  a  nobler  idea  of  a  garden,  nor  better 
suited  or  chosen  for  the  climate,  which  is  about 
thirty  degrees,  and  may  pass  for  the  Hesperides 
of  our  age,  whatever  or  wherever  the  other  was. 
Yet  this  is  agreed  by  all  to  have  been  in  the 
islands  or  continent  upon  the  southwest  of 
Africa ;  but  what  their  forms  or  their  fruits 
were,  none,  that  I  know,  pretend  to  tell ;  nor 
whether  their  golden  apples  were  for  taste,  or 
only  for  sight,  as  those  of  Montezuma  were  in 
Mexico,  who  had  large  trees,  with  stocks, 
branches,  leaves,  and  fruits,  all  admirably  com- 
posed and  wrought  of  gold  ;  but  this  was  only 
stupendous  in  cost  and  art,  and  answers  not  at 
all,  in  my  opinion,  the  delicious  varieties  of 
nature  in  other  gardens. 

What  I  have  said  of  gardening  is  perhaps 
enough  for  any  gentleman  to  know,  so  as  to 
make  no  great  faults,  nor  to  be  much  imposed 
upon  in  the  designs  of  that  kind,  which  I  think 
ought  to  be  applauded  and  encouraged  in  all 
countries ;  that  and  building  being  a  sort  of 
creation,  that  raise  beautiful  fabrics  and  figures 
out  of  nothing,  that  make  the  convenience  and 
pleasure  of  all  private  habitations,  that  employ 
many  hands  and  circulate  much  money  among 
the  poorer  sort  and  artisans,  that  are  a  public 
service  to  one's  country,  by  the  example  as  well 


124  ttbe  (Barfcen 


as  effect,  which  adorn  the  scene,  improve  the 
earth,  and  even  the  air  itself  in  some  degree. 
The  rest  that  belongs  to  this  subject  must  be  a 
gardener's  part ;  upon  whose  skill,  diligence, 
and  care  the  beauty  of  the  grounds  and  excel- 
lence of  the  fruits  will  much  depend.  Though 
if  the  soil  and  sorts  be  well  chosen,  well  suited, 
and  disposed  to  the  walls,  the  ignorance  or 
carelessness  of  the  servants  can  hardly  leave 
the  master  disappointed. 

I  will  not  enter  further  upon  his  trade,  than 
by  three  short  directions  or  advices :  first,  in  all 
plantations,  either  for  his  master  or  himself, 
to  draw  his  trees  out  of  some  nursery  that  is 
upon  a  leaner  and  lighter  soil  than  his  own 
where  he  removes  them  ;  without  this  care  they 
will  not  thrive  in  several  years,  perhaps  never  ; 
and  must  make  way  for  new,  which  should  be 
avoided  all  that  can  be  ;  for  life  is  too  short 
and  uncertain  to  be  renewing  often  your  plan- 
tations. The  walls  of  your  garden,  without 
their  furniture,  look  as  ill  as  those  of  your 
house  ;  so  that  you  cannot  dig  up  your  garden 
too  often,  nor  too  seldom  cut  them  down. 

The  second  is,  in  all  trees  you  raise,  to  have 
some  regard  to  the  stock,  as  well  as  the  graft  or 
bud ;  for  the  first  will  have  a  share  in  giving 
taste  and  season  to  the  fruits  it  produces,  how 
little  soever  it  is  usually  observed  by  our  gar- 


Sit  William  temple  125 

deners.  I  have  found  grafts  of  the  same  tree 
upon  a  bon-cretien  stock  bring  chasseray  pears 
that  lasted  till  March,  but  with  a  rind  green  and 
rough  ;  and  others,  upon  a  metre-John  stock, 
with  a  smooth  and  yellow  skin,  which  were 
rotten  in  November.  I  am  apt  to  think,  all  the 
difference  between  the  St.  Michael  and  the 
ambrette  pear  (which  has  puzzled  our  gar- 
deners) is  only  what  comes  from  this  variety  of 
the  stocks  ;  and  by  this,  perhaps,  as  well  as  by 
raising  from  stones  and  kernels,  most  of  the 
new  fruits  are  produced  every  age.  So  the 
grafting  a  crab  upon  a  white  thorn  brings  the 
lazarolli,  a  fruit  esteemed  at  Rome,  though 
I  do  not  find  it  worth  cultivating  here  ;  and 
I  believe  the  cidrato  (or  hermaphrodite)  came 
from  budding  a  citron  upon  an  orange.  The 
best  peaches  are  raised  by  buds  of  the  best 
fruits  upon  stocks  growing  from  stones  of  the 
best  peaches  ;  and  so  the  best  apples  and  pears, 
from  the  best  kinds  grafted  upon  stocks  from 
kernels  also  of  the  best  sorts,  with  respect  to 
the  season,  as  well  as  beauty  and  taste.  And  I 
believe  so  many  excellent  winter-pears,  as  have 
come  into  France  since  forty  years,  may  have 
been  found  out  by  grafting  summer-pears  of  the 
finest  taste  and  most  water  upon  winter  stocks. 
The  third  advice  is,  to  take  the  greatest  care 
and  pains  in  preserving  your  trees  from  the 


worst  disease,  to  which  those  of  the  best  fruits 
are  subject  in  the  best  soils  and  upon  the  best 
walls.  It  is  what  has  not  been  (that  I  know  of) 
taken  notice  of  with  us,  till  I  was  forced  to  ob- 
serve it  by  the  experience  of  my  gardens,  though 
I  have  since  met  with  it  in  books,  both  ancient 
and  modern.  I  found  my  vines,  peaches,  apri- 
cots, and  plums  upon  my  best  south  walls,  and 
sometimes  upon  my  west,  apt  for  several  years 
to  a  soot  or  smuttiness  upon  their  leaves  first, 
and  then  upon  their  fruits,  which  were  good  for 
nothing  the  years  they  were  so  affected.  My 
orange-trees  were  likewise  subject  to  it,  and 
never  prospered  while  they  were  so  ;  and  I  have 
known  some  collections  quite  destroyed  by  it. 
But  I  cannot  say  that  ever  I  found  either  my 
figs  or  pears  infected  with  it,  nor  any  trees  upon 
my  east  walls,  though  I  do  not  well  conjecture 
at  the  reason.  The  rest  were  so  spoiled  with  it, 
that  I  complained  to  several  of  the  oldest  and 
best  gardeners  of  England,  who  knew  nothing 
of  it,  but  that  they  often  fell  into  the  same 
misfortune,  and  esteemed  it  some  blight  of 
spring.  I  observed  after  some  years  that  the 
diseased  trees  had  very  frequent,  upon  their 
stocks  and  branches,  a  small  insect  of  a  dark- 
brown  color,  figured  like  a  shield,  and  about 
the  size  of  a  large  wheat-corn  ;  they  stuck  close 
to  the  bark,  and  in  many  cases  covered  it. 


Sir  TlGlilltam  temple  127 

especially  about  the  joints  ;  in  winter  they  are 
dry  and  thin-shelled,  but  in  spring  they  begin 
to  grow  soft  and  to'  fill  with  moisture,  and  to 
throw  a  spawn,  like  a  black  dust,  upon  the 
stocks,  as  well  as  the  leaves  and  fruits. 

I  met  afterwards  with  the  mention  of  this 
disease,  as  known  among  orange-trees,  in  a 
book  written  upon  that  subject  in  Holland,  and 
since  in  Pausanias,  as  a  thing  so  much  taken 
notice  of  in  Greece,  that  the  author  describes  a 
certain  sort  of  earth  which  cures  pediculos  vitisy 
or  the  lice  of  the  vine.  This  is  of  all  others  the 
most  pestilent  disease  of  the  best  fruit-trees,  and 
upon  the  very  best  soils  of  gravel  and  sand 
(especially  where  they  are  too  hungry),  and  is 
so  contagious,  that  it  is  propagated  to  new 
plants  raised  from  old  trees  that  are  infected, 
and  spreads  to  new  ones  that  are  planted  near 
them,  which  makes  me  imagine  that  it  lies 
in  the  root,  and  that  the  best  cure  were  by 
application  there.  But  I  have  tried  all  sorts  of 
soil  without  effect,  and  can  prescribe  no  other 
remedy  than  to  prune  your  trees  as  close  as  you 
can,  especially  the  tainted  wood,  then  to  wash 
them  very  clean  with  a  wet  brush,  so  as  not  to 
leave  one  shell  upon  them  that  you  can  discern ; 
and  upon  your  oranges  to  pick  off  every  one 
that  you  can  find  by  turning  every  leaf,  as  well 
as  brushing  clean  the  stocks  and  branches. 


128  Hbe  (Sarfcen 


Without  these  cares  and  diligences  you  had 
better  root  up  any  trees  that  are  infected,  renew 
all  the  mould  in  your  borders  or  boxes,  and 
plant  new  sound  trees,  rather  than  suffer  the 
disappointments  and  vexation  of  your  old 
ones. 

I  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  know  something 
of  this  trade,  since  I  have  so  long  allowed  my- 
self to  be  good  for  nothing  else,  which  few  men 
will  do,  or  enjoy  their  gardens,  without  often 
looking  abroad  to  see  how  other  matters  play, 
what  motions  in  the  state,  and  what  invitations 
they  may  hope  for  into  other  scenes. 

For  my  own  part,  as  the  country  life,  and 
this  part  of  it  more  particularly,  were  the  incli- 
nation of  my  youth  itself,  so  they  are  the  pleas- 
ure of  my  age  ;  and  I  can  truly  say  that,  among 
many  great  employments  that  have  fallen  to 
my  share,  I  have  never  asked  or  sought  for  any 
one  of  them,  but  often  endeavored  to  escape 
from  them,  into  the  ease  and  freedom  of  a  pri- 
vate scene,  where  a  man  may  go  his  own  way 
and  his  own  pace  in  the  common  paths  or  circles 
of  life. 

Inter  cuncta  leges  et per  cunctabere  dodos 
Qua  ratione  queas  traducere  leniter  <zvum, 
Quid  minuat curte \  quid  te  tibi  reddet  amtcum, 
Quid  pure  tranquillet,  honos,  an  dulce  lucellum, 
itert  etfallentis  sernita  vit($. 


Sir  William  {Temple  129 

"But,  above  all,  the  learned  read,  and  ask 
By  what  means  you  may  gently  pass  your  age, 
What  lessens  care,  what  makes  thee  thine  own  friend, 
What  truly  calms  the  mind  ;  honor,  or  wealth, 
Or  else  a 'private  path  of  stealing  life." 

These  are  questions  that  a  man  ought  at  least 
to  ask  himself,  whether  he  asks  others  or  no, 
and  to  choose  his  course  of  life  rather  by  his 
own  humor  and  temper  than  by  common  acci- 
dents or  advice  of  friends  ;  at  least,  if  the  Span- 
ish proverb  be  true,  that  a  fool  knows  more  in 
his  own  house  than  a  wise  man  in  another's. 

The  measure  of  choosing  well  is,  whether  a 
man  likes  what  he  has  chosen  ;  which,  I  thank 
God,  has  befallen  me  ;  and  though,  among  the 
follies  of  my  life,  building  and  planting  have 
not  been  the  least,  and  have  cost  me  more  than 
I  have  the  confidence  to  own,  yet  they  have 
been  fully  recompensed  by  the  sweetness  and 
satisfaction  of  this  retreat,  where,  since  my 
resolution  taken  of  never  entering  again  into 
any  public  employments,  I  have  passed  five 
years  without  ever  going  once  to  town,  though 
I  am  almost  in  sight  of  it,  and  have  a  house 
there  always  ready  to  receive  me.  Nor  has  this 
been  any  sort  of  affectation,  as  some  have 
thought  it,  but  a  mere  want  of  desire  or  humor 
to  make  so  small  a  remove  ;  for  when  I  am  in 
this  corner,  I  can  truly  say,  with  Horace  : 


130  Gbe  <3arDen 


"  Me  quoties  reficit  gelidus  Digentia  rivus, 
Quid  sentire putas,  quid  credts,  amice,  precari  f 
Sit  mini,  quod  nunc  est,  etiam  minus,  ut  mihi  vivam 
Quod  superest  cevi,  si  quid  superesse  volunt  Di. 
Sit  dona  librorum,  et  provisos  frugis  in  annum 
Copia,  nefluitem  dubies  spe  pendulus  horez , 
Hoc  satis  est  orassejovem,  qui  donat  et  aufert" 

Me  when  the  cold  Digentian  stream  revives, 
What  does  my  friend  believe  I  think  or  ask  ? 
I^et  me  yet  less  possess,  so  I  may  live, 
Whate'er  of  life  remains,  unto  myself. 
May  I  have  books  enough,  and  one  year's  store, 
Not  to  depend  upon  each  doubtful  hour  ; 
This  is  enough  of  mighty  Jove  to  pray, 
Who,  as  he  pleases,  gives  and  takes  away. 

That  which  makes  the  cares  of  gardening 
more  necessary,  or  at  least  more  excusable,  is, 
that  all  men  eat  fruit  that  can  get  it ;  so  as  the 
choice  is  only,  whether  one  will  eat  good  or  ill ; 
and  between  these  the  difference  is  not  greater 
in  point  of  taste  and  delicacy  than  it  is  of 
health  :  for  the  first  I  will  only  say  that  who- 
ever has  used  to  eat  good  will  do  very  great 
penance  when  he  comes  to  ill ;  and  for  the 
other,  I  think  nothing  is  more  evident  than  as 
ill  or  unripe  fruit  is  extremely  unwholesome, 
and  causes  so  many  untimely  deaths,  or  so  much 
sickness  about  autumn,  in  all  great  cities  where 
it  is  greedily  sold  as  well  as  eaten  ;  so  no  part 
of  diet,  in  any  season,  is  so  healthful,  so  natural, 


Sir  William  Cemple  131 

and  so  agreeable  to  the  stomach,  as  good  and 
well-ripened  fruits  ;  for  this  I  make  the  meas- 
ure of  their  being  good :  and,  let  the  kinds  be 
what  they  will,  if  they  will  not  ripen  perfectly 
in  our  climate,  they  are  better  never  planted, 
or  never  eaten.  I  can  say  it  for  myself  at  least, 
and  all  my  friends,  that  the  season  of  summer 
fruits  is  ever  the  season  of  health  with  us,  which 
I  reckon  from  the  beginning  of  June  to  the  end 
of  September  ;  and  for  all  sicknesses  of  the 
stomach  (from  which  most  others  are  judged  to 
proceed),  I  do  not  think  any  that  are,  like  me, 
the  most  subject  to  them,  shall  complain  when- 
ever they  eat  thirty  or  forty  cherries  before 
meals,  or  the  like  proportion  of  strawberries, 
white  figs,  soft  peaches,  or  grapes  perfectly 
ripe.  But  these  after  Michaelmas  I  do  not  think 
wholesome  with  us,  unless  attended  by  some  fit 
of  hot  and  dry  weather,  more  than  is  usual 
after  that  season  ;  when  the  frosts  or  the  rain 
hath  taken  them,  they  grow -dangerous,  and 
nothing  but  the  autumn  and  winter  pears  are 
to  be  reckoned  in  season,  besides  apples,  which, 
with  cherries,  are  of  all  others  the  most  inno- 
cent food,  and  perhaps  the  best  physic.  Now 
whoever  will  be  sure  to  eat  good  fruit  must  do 
it  out  of  a  garden  of  his  own  ;  for,  besides  the 
choice  so  necessary  in  the  sorts,  the  soil,  and  so 
many  other  circumstances  that  go  to  compose  a 


132  Gbe  (Barren 


good  garden,  or  produce  good  fruits,  there  is 
something  very  nice  in  gathering  them,  and 
choosing  the  best,  even  from  the  same  tree. 
The  best  sorts  of  all  among  us,  which  I  esteem 
the  white  figs  and  the  soft  peaches,  will  not 
carry  without  suffering.  The  best  fruit  that  is 
bought  has  no  more  of  the  master's  care  than 
how  to  raise  the  greatest  gains  ;  his  business  is 
to  have  as  much  fruit  as  he  can  upon  a  few 
trees ;  whereas  the  way  to  have  it  excellent  is 
to  have  but  little  upon  many  trees.  So  that  for 
all  things  out  of  a  garden,  either  of  salads  or 
fruits,  a  poor  man  will  eat  better,  that  has  one 
of  his  own,  than  a  rich  man  that  has  none.  And 
this  is  all  I  think  of  necessary  and  useful  to  be 
known  upon  this  subject. 


THE   SPECTATOR. 

JOSEPH  ADDISON. 


Wednesday,  June  25,  1712. 
-  -  Alterius  sic 


Altera  poscit  opem  res  et  conjurat  amic2.— 

IF  we  consider  the  works  of  nature  and  art, 
as  they  are  qualified  to  entertain  the  imagi- 
nation, we  shall  find  the  last  very  defective,  in 
comparison  of  the  former  ;  for  though  they  may 
sometimes  appear  as  beautiful  or  strange,  they 
can  have  nothing  in  them  of  that  vastness  and 
immensity,  which  afford  so  great  an  entertain- 
ment to  the  mind  of  the  beholder.  The  one 
may  be  as  polite  and  delicate  as  the  other,  but 
can  never  show  herself  so  august  and  magnifi- 
cent in  the  design.  There  is  something  more 
bold  and  masterly  in  the  rough,  careless  strokes 
of  nature,  than  in  the  nice  touches  and  embel- 
lishments of  art.  The  beauties  of  the  most 


134  ftbe  (Barren 


stately  garden  or  palace  lie  in  a  narrow  com- 
pass, the  imagination  immediately  runs  them 
over,  and  requires  something  else  to  gratify  her  ; 
but,  in  the  wide  fields  of  nature,  the  sight 
wanders  up  and  down  without  confinement, 
and  is  fed  with  an  infinite  variety  of  images, 
without  any  certain  stint  or  number.  For  this 
reason  we  always  find  the  poet  in  love  with  a 
country  life,  where  nature  appears  in  the  great- 
est perfection,  and  furnishes  out  all  those  scenes 
that  are  most  apt  to  delight  the  imagination. 

Scriptorum  chorus  omnis  amat  nemus  etfugit  urbes. 

— HOR. 

To  grottos  and  to  groves  we  run, 

To  ease  and  silence,  ev'ry  muse's  son. 

—POPE. 

Hie  secura  quies,  et  nescia  f alter e  vita, 
Dives  opum  variarum  ;  hie  latis  otiafundis, 
Spelunca,  vivique  lacus,  hie  frigida  Tempe, 
Mugitusque  bourn,  mollesque  sub  arbore  somni. 

— VlRG. 

Here  easy  quiet,  a  secure  retreat, 
A  harmless  life,  that  knows  not  how  to  cheat, 
With  home-bred  plenty  the  rich  owner  bless, 
And  rural  pleasures  crown  his  happiness, 
Unvex'd  with  quarrels,  undisturb'd  with  noise, 
The  country  king  his  peaceful  realm  enjoys  : 
Cool  grots,  and  living  lakes,  the  flow'ry  pride 
Of  meads,  and  streams  that  through  the  valley  glide ; 
And  shady  groves  that  easy  sleep  invite, 
And,  after  toilsome  days,  a  sweet  repose  at  night. 

— DRYDEN. 


Spectator  135 


But  though  there  are  several  of  these  wild 
scenes  that  are  more  delightful  than  any  arti- 
ficial shows,  yet  we  find  the  works  of  nature 
still  more  pleasant,  the  more  they  resemble 
those  of  art.  For  in  this  case  our  pleasure  rises 
from  a  double  principle,  from  the  agreeableness 
of  the  objects  to  the  eye,  and  from  their  simili- 
tude to  other  objects.  We  are  pleased  as  well 
with  comparing  their  beauties  as  with  surveying 
them,  and  can  represent  them  to  our  minds 
either  as  copies  or  originals.  Hence  it  is  that 
we  take  delight  in  a  prospect  which  is  well  laid 
out,  and  diversified  with  fields  and  meadows, 
woods  and  rivers  ;  in  those  accidental  land- 
scapes of  trees,  clouds,  and  cities  that  are 
sometimes  found  in  the  veins  of  marble  ;  in 
the  curious  fretwork  of  rocks  and  grottos  ; 
and,  in  a  word,  in  any  thing  that  hath  such  a. 
variety  or  regularity  as  may  seem  the  effect 
of  design,  in  what  we  call  the  works  of  chance. 

If  the  products  of  nature  rise  in  value  accord- 
ing as  they  more  or  less  resemble  those  of  art, 
we  may  be  sure  that  artificial  works  receive  a 
greater  advantage  from  their  resemblance  of 
such  as  are  natural,  because  here  the  similitude 
is  not  only  pleasant,  but  the  pattern  more  per- 
fect. The  prettiest  landscape  I  ever  saw  was 
one  drawn  on  the  walls  of  a  dark  room,  which 
stood  opposite  on  one  side  to  a  navigable  river, 


136  (Tbe  (Barren 


and  on  the  other  to  a  park.  The  experiment 
is  very  common  in  optics.  Here  you  might 
discover  the  waves  and  fluctuations  of  the 
water  in  strong  and  proper  colors,  with  the 
picture  of  a  ship  entering  at  one  end,  and  sail- 
ing by  degrees  through  the  whole  piece.  On 
another  there  appeared  the  green  shadows  of 
trees,  waving  to  and  fro  with  the  wind,  and 
herds  of  deer  among  them  in  miniature,  leap- 
ing about  upon  the  wall.  I  must  confess  the 
novelty  of  such  a  sight  may  be  one  occasion 
of  its  pleasantness  to  the  imagination,  but  cer- 
tainly the  chief  reason  is  its  near  resemblance 
to  nature,  as  it  does  not  only,  like  other  pic- 
tures, give  the  color  and  figure,  but  the  mo- 
tion of  the  things  it  represents. 

We  have  before  observed  that  there  is  gener- 
ally in  nature  something  more  grand  and 
august  than  what  we  meet  with  in  the  curi- 
osities of  art.  When,  therefore,  we  see  this 
imitated  in  any  measure,  it  gives  us  a  nobler 
and  more  exalted  kind  of  pleasure  than  what 
we  receive  from  the  nicer  and  more  accurate  pro- 
ductions of  art.  On  this  account  our  English 
gardens  are  not  so  entertaining  to  the  fancy  as 
those  in  France  or  Italy,  where  we  see  a  large 
extent  of  ground  covered  over  with  an  agreeable 
mixture  of  garden  and  forest,  which  represent 
everywhere  an  artificial  rudeness,  much  more 


Spectator  137 


charming  than  that  neatness  and  elegancy 
which  we  meet  with  in  those  of  our  own  coun- 
try. It  might,  indeed,  be  of  ill  consequence  to 
the  public,  as  well  as  unprofitable  to  private 
persons,  to  alienate  so  much  ground  from  pas- 
turage, and  the  plow,  in  many  parts  of  a  coun- 
try that  is  so  well  peopled,  and  cultivated  to  a 
far  greater  advantage.  But  why  may  not  a 
whole  estate  be  thrown  into  a  kind  of  garden 
by  frequent  plantations,  that  may  turn  as  much 
to  the  profit  as  the  pleasure  of  the  owner?  A 
marsh  overgrown  with  willows,  or  a  mountain 
shaded  with  oaks,  are  not  only  more  beautiful, 
but  more  beneficial,  than  when  they  lie  bare  and 
unadorned.  Fields  of  corn  make  a  pleasant 
prospect,  and  if  the  walks  were  a  little  taken 
care  of  that  lie  between  them,  if  the  natural 
embroidery  of  the  meadows  were  helped  and 
improved  by  some  small  additions  of  art,  and 
the  several  rows  of  hedges  set  off  by  trees  and 
flowers  that  the  soil  was  capable  of  receiving,  a 
man  might  make  a  pretty  landscape  of  his  own 
possessions. 

Writers  who  have  given  us  an  account  of 
China  tell  us  the  inhabitants  of  that  country 
laugh  at  the  plantations  of  our  Europeans, 
which  are  laid  out  by  the  rule  and  line  ;  be- 
cause, they  say,  any  one  may  place  trees  in 
equal  rows  and  uniform  figures.  They  choose 


138  Gbe  (Barren 


rather  to  show  a  genius  in  works  of  this  nature, 
and  therefore  always  conceal  the  art  by  which 
they  direct  themselves.  They  have  a  word,  it 
seems,  in  their  language  by  which  they  express 
the  particular  beauty  of  a  plantation  that  thus 
strikes  the  imagination  at  first  sight,  without 
discovering  what  it  is  that  has  so  agreeable  an 
effect.  Our  British  gardeners,  on  the  contrary, 
instead  of  humoring  nature,  love  to  deviate 
from  it  as  much  as  possible.  Our  trees  rise  in 
cones,  globes,  and  pyramids.  We  see  the  marks 
of  the  scissors  upon  every  plant  and  bush.  I  do 
not  know  whether  I  am  singular  in  my  opinion, 
but,  for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  look  upon 
a  tree  in  all  its  luxuriancy  and  diffusion  of 
boughs  and  branches,  than  when  it  is  thus  cut 
and  trimmed  into  a  mathematical  figure ;  and 
cannot  but  fancy  that  an  orchard  in  flower  looks 
infinitely  more  delightful  than  all  the  little 
labyrinths  of  the  most  finished  parterre.  But 
as  our  great  modellers  of  gardens  have  their 
magazines  of  plants  to  dispose  of,  it  is  very 
natural  for  them  to  tear  up  all  the  beautiful 
plantations  of  fruit  trees,  and  contrive  a  plan 
that  may  most  turn  to  their  own  profit,  in  taking 
off  their  evergreens,  and  the  like  movable 
plants,  with  which  their  shops  are  plentifully 
stocked.  O. 


THE  SPECTATOR.* 

Tuesday,  July  8,  1712. 

Frigora  mitescunt  Zephyris,  Verproterit  sEstas 

Interitura,  simul 
Pomifer  Autumnus fruges  effudertt,  et  mox 

Bruma  recurrit  iners. — HOR. 

MR.  SPECTATOR:— There  is  hardly  any 
thing  gives  me  a  more  sensible  delight 
than  the  enjoyment  of  a  cool  still  evening 
after  the  uneasiness  of  a  hot  sultry  day.  Such 
a  one  I  passed  not  long  ago,  which  made  me 
rejoice  when  the  hour  was  come  for  the  sun  to 
set,  that  I  might  enjoy  the  freshness  of  the 
evening  in  my  garden,  which  then  affords  me 
the  pleasantest  hours  I  pass  in  the  whole  four 
and  twenty.  I  immediately  rose  from  my 
couch,  and  went  down  into  it.  You  descend 
at  first  by  twelve  stone  steps  into  a  large 
square  divided  into  four  grass-plots,  in  each 

*  The  authorship  of  this  paper  is  conjectural.   Possibly 
Pope  or  Dr.  Parnell. 


ftbe  (Barton 


of  which  is  a  statue  of  white  marble.  This  is 
separated  from  a  large  parterre  by  a  low  wall, 
and  from  thence  through  a  pair  of  iron  gates,  you 
are  led  into  a  long  broad  walk  of  the  finest  turf, 
set  on  each  side  with  tall  yews,  and  on  either 
hand  bordered  by  a  canal,  which  on  the  right 
divides  the  walk  from  a  wilderness  parted  into 
variety  of  alleys  and  arbors,  and  on  the  left 
from  a  kind  of  amphitheatre,  which  is  the  re- 
ceptacle of  a  great  number  of  oranges  and 
myrtles.  The  moon  shone  bright,  and  seemed 
then  most  agreeably  to  supply  the  place  of  the 
sun,  obliging  me  with  as  much  light  as  was  neces- 
sary to  discover  a  thousand  pleasing  objects, 
and  at  the  same  time  divested  of  all  power  of 
heat.  The  reflection  of  it  in  the  water,  the 
fanning  of  the  wind  rustling  on  the  leaves,  the 
singing  of  the  thrush  and  nightingale,  and  the 
coolness  of  the  walks,  all  conspired  to  make  me 
lay  aside  all  displeasing  thoughts,  and  brought 
me  into  such  a  tranquillity  of  mind,  as  is  I  be- 
lieve the  next  happiness  to  that  of  hereafter. 
In  this  sweet  retirement  I  naturally  fell  into  the 
repetition  of  some  lines  out  of  a  poem  of  Mil- 
ton's, which  he  entitles  "  IlPenseroso,"  the  ideas 
of  which  were  exquisitely  suited  to  my  present 
wanderings  of  thought : 

"  Sweet  bird  !  thou  shun'st  the  noise  of  folly, 
Most  musical !  most  melancholy  ! 


Spectator  141 


Thee  chantress,  oft  the  woods  among, 
I  woo  to  hear  thy  evening  song  : 
And  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 
To  behold  the  wand'  ring  moon, 
Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 
I,ike  one  that  hath  been  led  astray, 
Thro'  the  heaven's  wide  pathless  way, 
And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 
Stooping  thro'  a  fleecy  cloud. 

"  Then  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 
Wave  with  his  wings  in  airy  stream, 
Of  lively  portraiture  displayed, 
Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid  ; 
And  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 
Above,  about,  or  underneath  , 
Sent  by  spirits  to  mortals  good, 
Or  th'  unseen  Genius  of  the  Wood." 

I  reflected  then  upon  the  sweet  vicissitudes  of 
night  and  day,  on  the  charming  disposition  of 
the  seasons,  and  their  return  again  in  a  per- 
petual circle  ;  and  oh  !  said  I,  that  I  could  from 
these  my  declining  years  return  again  to  my 
first  spring  of  youth  and  vigor  ;  but  that,  alas  ! 
is  impossible.  All  that  remains  within  my  power 
is  to  soften  the  inconveniences  I  feel,  with  an 
easy  contented  mind,  and  the  enjoyment  of 
such  delights  as  this  solitude  affords  me.  In 
this  thought  I  sate  me  down  on  a  bank  of 
flowers  and  dropped  into  a  slumber,  which 
whether  it  were  the  effect  of  fumes  and  vapors, 


142  £be  (BarDen 


or  my  present  thoughts,  I  know  not ;  but 
methoughtthe  Genius  of  the  Garden  stood  before 
me,  and  introduced  into  the  walk  where  I  lay 
this  drama  and  different  scenes  of  the  revolu- 
tion of  the  year,  which  whilst  I  then  saw,  even 
in  my  dream,  I  resolved  to  write  down  and  send 
to  The  Spectator. 

The  first  person  whom  I  saw  advancing  tow- 
ards me  was  a  youth  of  a  most  beautiful  air  and. 
shape,  though  he  seemed  not  yet  arrived  at  that 
exact  proportion  and  symmetry  of  parts  which 
a  little  more  time  would  have  given  him  ;  but, 
however,  there  was  such  a  bloom  in  his  coun- 
tenance, such  satisfaction  and  joy,  that  I 
thought  it  the  most  desirable  form  that  I  had. 
ever  seen.  He  was  clothed  in  a  flowing  mantle 
of  green  silk,  interwoven  with  flowers.  He  had 
a  chaplet  of  roses  on  his  head,  and  a  narcissus 
in  his  hand  ;  primroses  and  violets  sprang  up 
under  his  feet,  and  all  nature  was  cheered  at 
his  approach.  Flora  was  on  one  hand  and  Ver- 
tumnus  on  the  other  in  a  robe  of  changeable 
silk.  After  this  I  was  surprised  to  see  the 
moonbeams  reflected  with  a  sudden  glare  from 
armor,  and  to  see  a  man  completely  armed 
advancing  with  his  sword  drawn.  I  was  soon 
informed  by  the  Genius  it  was  Mars,  who  had 
long  usurped  a  place  among  the  attendants  of 
the  Spring.  He  made  way  for  a  softer  appear- 


Gbe  Spectator  143 

ance  ;  it  was  Venus,  without  any  ornament  but 
her  own  beauties,  not  so  much  as  her  own  ces- 
tus,  with  which  she  had  encompassed  a  globe, 
which  she  held  in  her  right  hand,  and  in  her 
left  she  had  a  sceptre  of  gold.  After  her  fol- 
lowed the  Graces  with  their  arms  entwined  with- 
in one  another  ;  their  girdles  were  loosed  and 
they  moved  to  the  sound  of  soft  music,  striking 
the  ground  alternately  with  their  feet.  Then 
came  up  the  three  months  which  belong  to  this 
season.  As  March  advanced  towards  me,  there 
was,  methought,  in  his  look  a  louring  roughness, 
which  ill  befitted  a  month  which  was  ranked  in 
so  soft  a  season  ;  but  as  he  came  forward  his 
features  became  insensibly  more  mild  and  gen- 
tle. He  smoothed  his  brow,  and  looked  with  so 
sweet  a  countenance  that  I  could  not  but  lament 
his  departure,  though  he  made  way  for  April. 
He  appeared  in  the  greatest  gayety  imaginable, 
and  had  a  thousand  pleasures  to  attend  him.  His 
look  was  frequently  clouded,  but  immediately 
returned  to  its  first  composure,  and  remained 
fixed  in  a  smile.  Then  came  May,  attended  by 
Cupid,  with  his  bow  strung,  and  in  a  posture 
to  let  fly  an  arrow.  As  he  passed  by  methought 
I  heard  a  confused  noise  of  soft  complaints, 
gentle  ecstasies,  and  tender  sighs  of  lovers : 
vows  of  constancy,  and  as  many  complainings  of 
perfidiousness ;  all  which  the  winds  wafted 


144  tTbe  (Barren 


away  as  soon  as  they  had  reached  my  hearing. 
After  these  I  saw  a  man  advance  in  the  full 
prime  and  vigor  of  his  age ;  his  complexion 
was  sanguine  and  ruddy,  his  hair  black,  and 
fell  down  in  beautiful  ringlets  not  beneath  his 
shoulders ;  a  mantle  of  hair-colored  silk  hung 
loosely  upon  him.  He  advanced  with  a  hasty 
step  after  the  Spring,  and  sought  out  the  shade 
and  cool  fountains  which  played  in  the  garden. 
He  was  particularly  well  pleased  when  a  troop 
of  zephyrs  fanned  him  with  their  wings.  He 
had  two  companions  who  walked  on  each- side 
that  made  him  appear  the  most  agreeable  ;  the 
one  was  Aurora,  with  fingers  of  roses,  and  her 
feet  dewy,  attired  in  gray.  The  other  was 
Vesper  in  a  robe  of  azure,  beset  with  drops  of 
gold,  whose  breath  he  caught  whilst  it  passed 
over  a  bundle  of  honeysuckles  and  tuberoses 
which  he  held  in  his  hand.  Pan  and  Ceres 
followed  them  with  four  reapers,  who  danced 
a  morrice  to  the  sound  of  oaten  pipes  and 
cymbals.  Then  came  the  attendant  months. 
June  retained  still  some  small  likeness  of  the 
Spring  ;  but  the  other  two  seemed  to  step  with 
a  less  vigorous  tread,  especially  August,  who 
seemed  almost  to  faint,  whilst  for  half  the  steps 
he  took  the  dog-star  levelled  his  rays  full  at 
his  head.  They  passed  on  and  made  way  for  a 
person  that  seemed  to  bend  a  little  under  the 


Gbe  Spectator  145 

weight  of  years  ;  his  beard  and  hair,  which 
were  full  grown,  were  composed  of  an  equal 
number  of  black  and  gray ;  he  wore  a  robe 
which  he  had  girt  round  him  of  a  yellowish  cast, 
not  unlike  the  color  of  fallen  leaves,  which 
he  walked  upon.  I  thought  he  hardly  made 
amends  for  expelling  the  foregoing  scene  by  the 
large  quantity  of  fruits  which  he  bore  in  his 
hands.  Plenty  walked  by  his  side  with  a 
healthy  fresh  countenance,  pouring  out  from  a 
horn  all  the  various  product  of  the  year.  Po- 
mona followed  with  a  glass  of  cider  in  her 
hand,  with  Bacchus  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
tigers,  accompanied  by  a  whole  troop  of  satyrs, 
fawns,  and  syl vans.  September,  who  came  next, 
seemed  in  his  looks  to  promise  a  new  Spring, 
and  wore  the  livery  of  those  months.  The 
succeeding  month  was  all  soiled  with  the  juice 
of  grapes,  as  if  he  had  just  come  from  the  wine- 
press. November,  though  he  was  in  this  division, 
yet,  by  the  many  stops  he  made,  seemed  rather 
inclined  to  the  Winter,  which  followed  close  at 
his  heels.  He  advanced  in  the  shape  of  an  old 
man  in  the  extremity  of  age.  The  hair  he  had 
was  so  very  white  it  seemed  a  real  snow  ;  his 
eyes  were  red  and  piercing,  and  his  beard  hung 
with  a  great  quantity  of  icicles.  He  was  wrapped 
up  in  furs,  but  yet  so  pinched  with  excess  of 
cold  that  his  limbs  were  all  contracted  and  his 


146  £be  (Barfcen 


body  bent  to  the  ground,  so  that  he  could  not 
have  supported  himself  had  it  not  been  for 
Comus,  the  God  of  Revels,  and  Necessity,  the 
Mother  of  Fate,  who  sustained  him  on  each  side. 
The  shape  and  mantle  of  Comus  was  one  of 
the  things  that  most  surprised  me  ;  as  he  ad- 
vanced towards  me  his  countenance  seemed 
the  most  desirable  I  had  ever  seen.  On  the  fore 
part  of  his  mantle  were  pictured  Joy,  Delight, 
and  Satisfaction,  with  a  thousand  emblems  of 
merriment,  and  jests  with  faces  looking  two 
ways  at  once ;  but  as  he  passed  from  me  I  was 
amazed  at  a  shape  so  little  correspondent  to  his 
face.  His  head  was  bald,  and  all  the  rest  of 
his  limbs  appeared  old  and  deformed.  On  the 
hinder  part  of  his  mantle  were  represented  Mur- 
der, with  dishevelled  hair  and  a  dagger  all 
bloody ;  Anger,  in  a  robe  of  scarlet ;  and  Suspi- 
cion squinting  with  both  eyes  :  but  above  all  the 
most  conspicuous  was  the  battle  of  the  Lapithae 
and  the  Centaurs.  I  detested  so  hideous  a 
shape,  and  turned  my  eyes  upon  Saturn,  who 
was  stealing  away  behind  him,  with  a  scythe  in 
one  hand  and  an  hour-glass  in  the  other,  unob- 
served. Behind  Necessity  was  Vesta,  the  God- 
dess of  Fire,  with  a  lamp  which  was  perpetually 
supplied  with  oil,  and  whose  flame  was  eter- 
nal. She  cheered  the  rugged  brow  of  Necessity, 
and  warmed  her  so  far  as  almost  to  make  her 


Spectator 


147 


assume  the  features  and  likeness  of  Choice. 
December,  January,  and  February  passed  on 
after  the  rest,  all  in  furs ;  there  was  little  dis- 
tinction to  be  made  amongst  them,  and  they 
were  only  more  or  less  displeasing  as  they  dis- 
covered more  or  less  haste  towards  the  grateful 
return  of  Spring.  Z. 


THE    SPECTATOR. 

JOSEPH  ADDISON. 

Saturday,  September  6,  1712. 

An  me  laudit  amabilis 
Insania  ?  audire  et  videor  pios 
Err  are  per  lucos,  amcentz 
Quos  et  aqucz  subeunt  et  aurcs. — HOR. 

SIR  : — Having  lately  read  your  essay  on  the 
Pleasures  of  the  Imagination ,  I  was  so  taken 
with  your  thoughts  upon  some  of  our  English 
gardens,  that  I  cannot  forbear  troubling  you 
with  a  letter  upon  that  subject.  I  am  one, 
you  must  know,  who  am  looked  upon  as  an 
humorist  in  gardening.  I  have  several  acres 
about  my  house,  which  I  call  my  garden,  and 
which  a  skilful  gardener  would  not  know  what 
to  call.  It  is  a  confusion  of  kitchen  and  par- 
terre, orchard  and  flower-garden,  which  lie  so 
mixed  and  interwoven  with  one  another  that  if 
a  foreigner  who  had  seen  nothing  of  our  coun- 
try should  be  conveyed  into  my  garden  at  his 


Gbe  Spectator  149 

first  landing,  he  would  look  upon  it  as  a  natural 
wilderness,  and  one  of  the  uncultivated  parts 
of  our  country.  My  flowers  grow  up  in  several 
parts  of  the  garden  in  the  greatest  luxuriancy 
and  profusion.  I  am  so  far  from  being  fond  of 
any  particular  one,  by  reason  of  its  rarity,  that 
if  I  meet  with  any  one  in  a  field  which  pleases 
me  I  give  it  a  place  in  my  garden.  By  this 
means,  when  a  stranger  walks  with  me  he  is 
surprised  to  see  several  large  spots  of  ground 
covered  with  ten  thousand  different  colors,  and 
has  often  singled  out  flowers  that  he  might  have 
met  with  under  a  common  hedge,  in  a  field,  or 
in  a  meadow,  as  some  of  the  greatest  beauties 
of  the  place.  The  only  method  I  observe  in  this 
particular,  is  to  range  in  the  same  quarter  the 
products  of  the  same  season,  that  they  may  make 
their  appearance  together,  and  compose  a  pic- 
ture of  the  greatest  variety.  There  is  the  same 
irregularity  in  my  plantations,  which  run  into 
as  great  a  wildness  as  their  natures  will  permit. 
I  take  in  none  that  do  not  naturally  rejoice  in 
the  soil,  and  am  pleased  when  I  am  walking  in 
a  labyrinth  of  my  own  raising,  not  to  know 
whether  the  next  tree  I  shall  meet  with  is  an  ap- 
ple or  an  oak,  an  elm  or  a  pear-tree.  My  kitchen 
has  likewise  its  particular  quarters  assigned  it ; 
for  besides  the  wholesome  luxury  which  that 
place  abounds  with,  I  have  always  thought  a 


Sbe  (Barren 


kitchen-garden  a  more  pleasant  sight  than  the 
finest  orangery,  or  artificial  greenhouse.  I  love 
to  see  every  thing  in  its  perfection,  and  am  more 
pleased  to  survey  my  rows  of  coleworts  and 
cabbages,  with  a  thousand  nameless  pot-herbs, 
springing  up  in  their  full  fragrancy  and  verdure, 
than  to  see  the  tender  plants  of  foreign  coun- 
tries kept  alive  by  artificial  heats,  or  withering 
in  an  air  and  soil  that  are  not  adapted  to  them. 
I  must  not  omit,  that  there  is  a  fountain  rising 
in  the  upper  part  of  my  garden,  which  forms  a 
little  wandering  rill,  and  administers  to  the 
pleasures  as  well  as  the  plenty  of  the  place.  I 
have  so  conducted  it  that  it  visits  most  of  my 
plantations  ;  and  have  taken  particular  care  to 
let  it  run  in  the  same  manner  as  it  would  do  in 
an  open  field,  so  that  it  generally  passes  through 
banks  of  violets  and  primroses,  plats  of  willow, 
or  other  plants,  that  seem  to  be  of  its  own  pro- 
ducing. There  is  another  circumstance  in  which 
I  am  very  particular,  or,  as  my  neighbors  call 
me,  very  whimsical :  as  my  garden  invites  into 
it  all  the  birds  of  the  country,  by  offering  them 
the  conveniency  of  springs  and  shades,  solitude 
and  shelter,  I  do  not  suffer  any  one  to  destroy 
their  nests  in  the  spring,  or  drive  them  from 
their  usual  haunts  in  fruit-time.  I  value  my 
garden  more  for  being  full  of  blackbirds  than 
cherries,  and  very  frankly  give  them  fruit  for 


tTbe  Spectator  151 

their  songs.  By  this  means  I  have  always  the 
music  of  the  season  in  its  perfection,  and  am 
highly  delighted  to  see  the  jay  or  the  thrush 
hopping  about  my  walks  and  shooting  before 
my  eye  across  the  several  little  glades  and  alleys 
that  I  pass  through.  I  think  there  are  as  many 
kinds  of  gardening  as  of  poetry  :  your  makers 
of  parterres  and  flower-gardens  are  epigramma- 
tists and  sonneteers  in  this  art :  contrivers  of 
bowers  and  grottos,  treillages  and  cascades,  are 
romance  writers.  Wise  and  London  are  our 
heroic  poets  ;  and  if,  as  a  critic,  I  may  single  out 
any  passage  of  their  works  to  commend,  I  shall 
take  notice  of  that  part  in  the  upper  garden  at 
Kensington,  which  was  at  first  nothing  but  a 
gravel-pit.  It  must  have  been  a  fine  genius  for 
gardening  that  could  have  thought  of  forming 
such  an  unsightly  hollow  into  so  beautiful  an 
area,  and  to  have  hit  the  eye  with  so  uncommon 
and  agreeable  a  scene  as  that  which  it  is  now 
wrought  into.  To  give  this  particular  spot  of 
ground  the  greater  effect,  they  have  made  a  very 
pleasing  contrast ;  for  as  on  one  side  of  the 
walk  you  see  this  hollow  basin,  with  its  several 
little  plantations  lying  so  conveniently  under 
the  eye  of  the  beholder  ;  on  the  other  side  of  it 
there  appears  a  seeming  mount,  made  up  of  trees 
rising  one  higher  than  another  in  proportion  as 
they  approach  the  centre.  A  spectator,  who  has 


152  ffibe  <Sar&ert 


not  heard  this  account  of  it,  would  think  this 
circular  mount  was  not  only  a  real  one,  but  that 
it  had  been  actually  scooped  out  of  that  hol- 
low space  which  I  have  before  mentioned.  I 
never  yet  met  with  any  one  who  had  walked  in 
this  garden,  who  was  not  struck  with  that  part 
of  it  which  I  have  here  mentioned.  As  for  my- 
self, you  will  find  by  the  account  which  I  have 
already  given  you,  that  my  compositions  in  gar- 
dening are  altogether  after  the  Pindaric  man- 
ner, and  run  into  the  beautiful  wildness  of  na- 
ture, without  affecting  the  nicer  elegancies  of 
art.  What  I  am  now  going  to  mention  will, 
perhaps,  deserve  your  attention  more  than  any 
thing  I  have  yet  said.  I  find  that  in  the  dis- 
course which  I  spoke  of  at  the  beginning  of  my 
letter,  you  are  against  filling  an  English  garden 
with  evergreens ;  and  indeed  I  am  so  far  of 
your  opinion  that  I  can  by  no  means  think  the 
verdure  of  an  evergreen  comparable  to  that 
which  shoots  out  annually  and  clothes  our  trees 
in  the  summer  season.  But  I  have  often  won- 
dered that  those  who  are  like  myself,  and  love 
to  live  in  gardens,  have  never  thought  of  con- 
triving a  winter-garden,  which  would  consist  of 
such  trees  only  as  never  cast  their  leaves.  We 
have  very  often  little  snatches  of  sunshine  and 
fair  weather  in  the  most  uncomfortable  parts  of 
the  year ;  and  have  frequently  several  days  in 


Spectator  153 


November  and  January  that  are  as  agreeable  as 
any  in  the  finest  months.  At  such  times,  there- 
fore, I  think  there  could  not  be  a  greater  pleas- 
ure than  to  walk  in  such  a  winter-garden  as  I 
have  proposed.  In  the  summer  season  the  whole 
country  blooms,  and  is  a  kind  of  garden,  for 
which  reason  we  are  not  so  sensible  of  those 
beauties  that  at  this  time  may  be  everywhere 
met  with  ;  but  when  nature  is  in  her  desolation, 
and  presents  us  with  nothing  but  bleak  and 
barren  prospects,  there  is  something  unspeaka- 
bly cheerful  in  a  spot  of  ground  which  is  cov- 
ered with  trees  that  smile  amidst  all  the  rigors 
of  winter,  and  give  us  a  view  of  the  most  gay 
season  in  the  midst  of  that  which  is  the  most 
dead  and  melancholy.  I  have  so  far  indulged 
myself  in  this  thought,  that  I  have  set  apart  a 
whole  acre  of  ground  for  the  executing  of  it. 
The  walls  are  covered  with  ivy  instead  of  vines. 
The  laurel,  the  hornbeam,  and  the  holly,  with 
many  other  trees  and  plants  of  the  same  nature, 
grow  so  thick  in  it  that  you  cannot  imagine 
a  more  lively  scene.  The  glowing  redness  of 
the  berries,  with  which  they  are  hung  at  this 
time,  vies  with  the  verdure  of  their  leaves,  and 
are  apt  to  inspire  the  heart  of  the  beholder  with 
that  vernal  delight  which  you  have  somewhere 
taken  notice  of  in  your  former  papers.  It  is 
very  pleasant  at  the  same  time  to  see  the  several 


154  ftbe  (Barfcen 

kinds  of  birds  retiring  into  this  little  green  spot, 
and  enjoying  themselves  among  the  branches 
and  foliage,  when  my  great  garden,  which  I 
have  before  mentioned  to  you,  does  not  afford  a 
single  leaf  for  their  shelter. 

You  must  know,  sir,  that  I  look  upon  the 
pleasure  which  we  take  in  a  garden  as  one  of 
the  most  innocent  delights  in  human  life.  A 
garden  was  the  habitation  of  our  first  parents 
before  the  fall.  It  is  naturally  apt  to  fill  the 
mind  with  calmness  and  tranquillity,  and  to  lay 
all  its  turbulent  passions  at  rest.  It  gives  us  a 
great  insight  into  the  contrivance  and  wisdom 
of  Providence,  and  suggests  innumerable  sub- 
jects for  meditation.  I  cannot  but  think  the 
very  complacency  and  satisfaction  which  a  man 
takes  in  these  works  of  nature  to  be  a  laudable, 
if  not  a  virtuous,  habit  of  mind.  For  all  which 
reasons  I  hope  you  will  pardon  the  length  of 
my  present  letter. 

I  am, 

Sir,  etc. 


GUARDIAN. 


ALEXANDER   POPE. 

Tuesday,  September  29,  1713. 

Nee  sbro  comantem 

JVarctssnm,  aut  flexi  tacuissem  vimen  acanthi, 
Pallentesque  hederas,  et  amantes  littora  myrtos. 

—  VIRG.,  Georg.  iv.,  122. 
"  The  late  narcissus,  and  the  winding  trail 
Of  bear's-foot,  myrtles  green,  and  ivy  pale." 

—  DRYDEN. 


I  LATELY  took  a  particular  friend  of  mine  to 
my  house  in  the  country,  not  without  some 
apprehension  that  it  could  afford  little  entertain- 
ment to  a  man  of  his  polite  taste,  particularly 
in  architecture  and  gardening,  who  had  so  long 
been  conversant  with  all  that  is  beautiful  and 
great  in  either.  But  it  was  a  pleasant  surprise 
to  me  to  hear  him  often  declare  he  had  found 
in  my  little  retirement  that  beauty  which  he 
always  thought  wanting  in  the  most  celebrated 


156  tTbe  (Barfcett 


seats,  or,  if  you  will,  villas,  of  the  nation.  This 
he  described  to  me  in  those  verses  with  which 
Martial  begins  one  of  his  epigrams  : 

Baiana  nostri  villa,  Basse,  Faustini, 
Non  otiosis  ordinata  myrtetts, 
Viduaque  platano ,  tonsilique  buxeto  ; 
Ingrata  lati  spatia  detinet  campi  • 
Sed  rure  vero  barbaroque  Icstatur. 

"Our  friend  Faustinus'  country-seat  I  've  seen  : 
No  myrtles,  plac'd  in  rows,  and  idly  green, 
No  widow'd  platane,  nor  clipp'd  box-tree  there, 
The  useless  soil  unprofitably  share  ; 
But  simple  nature's  hand,  with  nobler  grace, 
Diffuses  artless  beauties  o'er  the  place." 

There  is  certainly  something  in  the  amiable 
simplicity  of  unadorned  nature  that  spreads 
over  the  mind  a  more  noble  sort  of  tranquillity, 
and  a  loftier  sensation  of  pleasure,  than  can  be 
raised  from  the  nicer  scenes  of  art. 

This  was  the  taste  of  the  ancients  in  their 
gardens,  as  we  may  discover  from  the  descrip- 
tions extant  of  them.  The  two  most  celebrated 
wits  of  the  world  have  each  of  them  left  us  a 
particular  picture  of  a  garden  ;  wherein  those 
great  masters,  being  wholly  unconfined,  and 
painting  at  pleasure,  may  be  thought  to  have 
given  a  full  idea  of  what  they  esteemed  most 
excellent  in  this  way.  These  (one  may  observe) 
consist  entirely  of  the  useful  part  of  horticul- 


(BuatDtan  157 


ture :  fruit-trees,  herbs,  water,  etc.  The  pieces 
I  am  speaking  of  are  Virgil's  account  of  the 
garden  of  the  old  Corycian  and  Homer's  of  that 
of  Alcinous.  The  first  of  these  is  already 
known  to  the  Bnglish  reader  by  the  excellent 
versions  of  Mr.  Dryden  and  Mr.  Addison.  The 
other  having  never  been  attempted  in  our 
language  with  any  elegance,  and  being  the 
most  beautiful  plan  of  this  sort  that  can  be 
imagined,  I  shall  here  present  the  reader  with  a 
translation  of  it. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  AI,CINOUS. 
FROM  HOMER'S  ODYSSEY,  vii. 

"  Close  to  the  gates  a  spacious  garden  lies, 
From  storms  defended  and  inclement  skies : 
Four  acres  was  the  allotted  space  of  ground, 
Fenc'd  with  a  green  enclosure  all  around. 
Tall  thriving  trees  confess  the  fruitful  mould ; 
The  red'ning  apple  ripens  here  to  gold  ; 
Here  the  blue  fig  with  luscious  juice  o'erflows, 
With  deeper  red  the  full  pomegranate  glows  ; 
The  branch  here  bends  beneath  the  weighty  pear, 
And  verdant  olives  flourish  round  the  year. 
The  balmy  spirit  of  the  western  gale 
Eternal  breathes  on  fruits  untaught  to  fail  : 
Each  dropping  pear  a  following  pear  supplies, 
On  apples  apples,  figs  on  figs  arise  ; 
The  same  mild  season  gives  the  blooms  to  blow, 
The  buds  to  harden,  and  the  fruits  to  grow. 

"  Here  order'd  vines  in  equal  ranks  appear, 
With  all  the  united  labors  of  the  year. 


158  Gbe  (Sarfcen 


Some  to  unload  the  fertile  branches  run, 
Some  dry  the  black 'ning  clusters  in  the  sun. 
Others  to  tread  the  liquid  harvest  join, 
The  groaning  presses  foam'd  with  floods  of  wine. 
Here  are  the  vines  in  early  flow'r  descried, 
Here  grapes  discolor' d  on  the  sunny  side, 
And  there  in  autumn's  richest  purple  dy'd. 

"  Beds  of  all  various  herbs,  for  ever  green, 
In  beauteous  order  terminate  the  scene. 

"  Two  plenteous  fountains  the  whole  prospect  crown 'd, 
This  through  the  garden  leads  its  streams  around, 
Visits  each  plant,  and  waters  all  the  ground. 
While  that  in  pipes  beneath  the  palace  flows  ; 
And  thence  its  current  on  the  town  bestows  ; 
To  various  use  their  various  streams  they  bring, 
The  people  one,  and  one  supplies  the  king." 

Sir  William  Temple  has  remarked,  that  this 
description  contains  all  the  justest  rules  and 
provisions  which  can  go  toward  composing  the 
best  gardens.  Its  extent  was  four  acres,  which 
in  those  times  of  simplicity  was  looked  upon  as 
a  large  one,  even  for  a  prince  ;  it  was  enclosed  all 
around  for  defence  ;  and  for  conveniency  joined 
close  to  the  gates  of  the  palace. 

He  mentions  next  the  trees,  which  were  stand- 
ards, and  suffered  to  grow  to  their  full  height. 
The  fine  description  of  the  fruits  that  never 
failed,  and  the  eternal  zephyrs,  is  only  a  more 
noble  and  poetical  way  of  expressing  the  con- 
tinual succession  of  one  fruit  after  another 
throughout  the  year, 


<3uarDfan  159 


The  vineyard  seems  to  have  been  a  plantation 
distinct  from  the  garden  ;  as  also  the  beds  of 
greens  mentioned  afterwards  at  the  extremity 
of  the  enclosure,  in  the  nature  and  usual  place 
of  our  kitchen-gardens. 

The  two  fountains  are  disposed  very  remarka- 
bly. They  rose  within  the  enclosure,  and  were 
brought  by  conduits,  or  ducts,  one  of  them  to 
water  all  parts  of  the  gardens,  and  the  other 
underneath  the  palace  into  the  town  for  the 
service  of  the  public. 

How  contrary  to  this  simplicity  is  the  modern 
practice  of  gardening  !  We  seem  to  make  it 
our  study  to  recede  from  nature,  not  only  in  the 
various  tonsure  of  greens  into  the  most  regular 
and  formal  shapes,  but  even  in  monstrous  at- 
tempts beyond  the  reach  of  the  art  itself.  We 
run  into  sculpture,  and  yet  are  better  pleased  , 
to  have  our  trees  in  the  most  awkward  figures 
of  men  and  animals  than  in  the  most  regular 
of  their  own. 

Hinc  et  nexilibus  vineas  efrondibus  hortos^ 
Implexos  lati  muros,  et  mcenia  circUm 
Porrigere,  et  la  fas  e  ramis  surgere  turres  ; 
Deflexam  et  myrtum  in  puppes,  atque  <zrea  rosta  : 
In  buxisque  undare  /return  ,  atque  e  rore  rudentes. 
Parte  alia  frondere  suis  tentoria  castris  ; 
Scutaque  spiculaque  etjaculantia  citria  vallos. 

"  Here  interwoven  branches  form  a  wall, 
And  from  the  living  fence  green  turret?  rise  ; 


160  Gbe  (SarDen 


There  ships  of  myrtle  sail  in  seas  of  box  ; 
A  green  encampment  yonder  meets  the  eye, 
And  loaded  citrons  bearing  shields  and  spears." 

I  believe  it  is  no  wrong  observation  that  per- 
sons of  genius,  and  those  who  are  most  capable 
of  art,  are  always  most  fond  of  nature  :  as  such 
are  chiefly  sensible  that  all  art  consists  in  the 
imitation  and  study  of  nature.  On  the  con- 
trary, people  of  the  common  level  of  under- 
standing are  principally  delighted  with  little 
niceties  and  fantastical  operations  of  art,  and 
constantly  think  that  finest  which  is  least 
natural.  A  citizen  is  no  sooner  proprietor  of  a 
couple  of  yews  than  he  entertains  thoughts  of 
erecting  them  into  giants,  like  those  of  Guild- 
hall. I  know  an  eminent  cook  who  beautified 
his  country-seat  with  a  coronation  dinner  in 
greens  ;  where  you  see  the  champion  flourishing 
on  horseback  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  the 
queen  in  perpetual  youth  at  the  other. 

For  the  benefit  of  all  my  loving  countrymen 
of  this  taste,  I  shall  here  publish  a  catalogue  of 
greens  to  be  disposed  of  by  an  eminent  town 
gardener,  who  has  lately  applied  to  me  upon 
this  head.  He  represents  that,  for  the  advance- 
ment of  a  politer  sort  of  ornament  in  the  villas 
and  gardens  adjacent  to  this  great  city,  and  in 
order  to  distinguish  those  places  from  the  mere 
barbarous  countries  of  gross  nature,  the  world 


161 


stands  much  in  need  of  a  virtuoso  gardener 
who  has  a  turn  to  sculpture,  and  is  thereby 
capable  of  improving  upon  the  ancients  of  his 
profession  in  the  imagery  of  evergreens.  My 
correspondent  is  arrived  to  such  perfection,  that 
he  cuts  family  pieces  of  men,  women,  or  chil- 
dren. Any  ladies  that  please  may  have  their 
own  effigies  in  myrtle,  or  their  husbands  in 
hornbeam.  He  is  a  Puritan  wag,  and  never 
fails  when  he  shows  his  garden  to  repeat  that 
passage  in  the  Psalms  :  "Thy  wife  shall  be  as 
the  fruitful  vine,  and  thy  children  as  olive 
branches  round  thy  table."  I  shall  proceed  to 
his  catalogue,  as  he  sent  it  for  my  recommen- 
dation : 

"  Adam  and  Eve  in  yew  ;  Adam  a  little  shat- 
tered by  the  fall  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  in 
the  great  storm  ;  Eve  and  the  serpent  very 
flourishing. 

"  The  tower  of  Babel,  not  yet  finished. 

"  St.  George  in  box  ;  his  arms  scarce  long 
enough,  but  will  be  in  condition  to  stick  the 
dragon  by  next  April. 

"  A  green  dragon  of  the  same,  with  a  tail  of 
ground-ivy  for  the  present. 

"  N.  B.     These  two  not  to  be  sold  separately. 

"  Edward  the  Black  Prince  in  cypress. 

"  A  laurustine  bear  in  blossom,  with  a  juniper 
hunter  in  berries. 


162  Gbe  (Barren 


"  A  pair  of  giants,  stunted,  to  be  sold  cheap. 

"  A  queen  Elizabeth  in  phylyraea,  a  little  in- 
clining to  the  green-sickness,  but  full  of  growth. 

"  Another  queen  Elizabeth  in  myrtle,  which 
was  very  forward,  but  miscarried  by  being  too 
near  a  savine. 

"  An  old  maid  of  honor  in  wormwood. 

"  A  topping  Ben  Jonson  in  laurel. 

"  Divers  eminent  modern  poets  in  bays,  some- 
what blighted,  to  be  disposed  of,  a  pennyworth. 

"A  quickset  hog,  shot  up  into  a  porcupine, 
by  its  being  forgot  a  week  in  rainy  weather. 

"  A  lavender  pig  with  sage  growing  in  his 
belly. 

"  Noah's  ark  in  holly,  standing  on  the  mount ; 
the  ribs  a  little  damaged  for  want  of  water." 


LADY  MARY  WORTLEY  MONTAGUE. 
TO  THE;  COUNTESS  OF  BUTE.* 

July  10,  1748. 

DEAR  CHIU>  :— I  received  yours  of  May  the 
1 2th  but  yesterday,  July  the  gth.  I  am 
surprised  you  complain  of  my  silence.  I  have 
never  failed  answering  yours  the  post  after  I 
received  them  ;  but  I  fear,  being  directed  to 
Twickenham  (having  no  other  direction  from 
you),  your  servants  there  may  have  neglected 
them. 

I  have  been  these  six  weeks,  and  still  am,  at 
my  dairy -house,  which  joins  to  my  garden.  I 
believe  I  have  already  told  you  it  is  a  long  mile 
from  the  Castle,  which  is  situate  in  the  midst 
of  a  very  large  village,  once  a  considerable 
town,  part  of  the  walls  still  remaining,  and  has 
not  vacant  ground  enough  about  it  to  make  a 

*  Written  from  I^overe,  near  Brescia.  The  "Castle" 
referred  to  in  this  letter  was  the  chateau  rented  and 
occupied  by  I<ady  Mary. 


164  tTbe  Garden 


garden,  which  is  my  greatest  amusement,  it 
being  now  troublesome  to  walk,  or  even  go  in 
the  chaise  till  the  evening.  I  have  fitted  up  in 
this  farmhouse  a  room  for  myself — that  is  to 
say,  strewed  the  floor  with  rushes,  covered  the 
chimney  with  moss  and  branches,  and  adorned 
the  room  with  basins  of  earthenware  (which  is 
made  here  to  great  perfection)  filled  with 
flowers,  and  put  in  some  straw  chairs,  and  a 
couch  bed,  which  is  my  whole  furniture.  This 
spot  of  ground  is  so  beautiful,  I  am  afraid  you 
will  scarce  credit  the  description,  which,  how- 
ever, I  can  assure  you,  shall  be  very  literal, 
without  any  embellishment  from  imagination. 
It  is  on  a  bank,  forming  a  kind  of  peninsula, 
raised  from  the  river  Oglio  fifty  feet,  to  which 
you  may  descend  by  easy  stairs  cut  in  the  turf, 
and  either  take  the  air  on  the  river,  which  is  as 
large  as  the  Thames  at  Richmond,  or  by  walk- 
ing in  an  avenue  two  hundred  yards  on  the 
side  of  it,  you  find  a  wood  of  a  hundred 
acres,  which  was  all  ready  cut  into  walks  and 
ridings  when  I  took  it.  I  have  only  added 
fifteen  bowers  in  different  views,  with  seats  of 
turf.  They  were  easily  made,  here  being  a 
large  quantity  of  underwood,  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  wild  vines,  which  twist  to  the  top  of  the 
highest  trees,  and  from  which  they  make  a  very 
good  sort  of  wine  they  call  brusco.  I  am  now 


/ifcarg  Uftortteg  /BSonta^ue    165 

writing  to  you  in  one  of  these  arbors,  which  is 
so  thickly  shaded,  the  sun  is  not  troublesome, 
even  at  noon.  Another  is  on  the  side  of  the 
river,  where  I  have  made  a  camp  kitchen,  that 
I  may  take  the  fish,  dress,  and  eat  it  im- 
mediately, and  at  the  same  time  see  the  barks, 
which  ascend  or  descend  every  day  to  or  from 
Mantua,  Gaustalla,  or  Pont  de  Vie,  all  con- 
siderable towns.  This  little  wood  is  carpeted, 
in  their  succeeding  seasons,  with  violets  and 
strawberries,  inhabited  by  a  nation  of  night- 
ingales, and  filled  with  game  of  all  kinds, 
excepting  deer  and  wild  boar,  the  first  being 
unknown  here,  and  not  being  large  enough  for 
the  other. 

My  garden  was  a  plain  vineyard  when  it  came 
into  my  hands  not  two  years  ago,  and  it  is, 
with  a  small  expense,  turned  into  a  garden  that 
(apart  from  the  advantage  of  the  climate)  I  like 
better  than  that  of  Kensington.  The  Italian  vine- 
yards are  not  planted  like  those  of  France,  but 
in  clumps,  fastened  to  trees  planted  in  equal 
ranks  (commonly  fruit-trees),  and  continued  in 
festoons  from  one  to  another,  which  I  have 
turned  into  covered  galleries  of  shade,  that  I 
can  walk  in  the  heat  without  being  incom- 
moded by  it.  I  have  made  a  dining-room  of 
verdure,  capable  of  holding  a  table  of  twenty 
covers  ;  the  whole  ground  is  three  hundred  and 


166  tTbe  <3ar5ett 


seventeen  feet  in  length,  and  two  hundred  in 
breadth.  You  see  it  is  far  from  large  ;  but  so 
prettily  disposed  (though  I  say  it),  that  I  never 
saw  a  more  agreeable  rustic  garden,  abounding 
with  all  sort  of  fruit,  and  produces  a  variety 
of  wines.  I  would  send  you  a  piece  if  I  did 
not  fear  the  customs  would  make  you  pay  too 
dear  for  it.  I  believe  my  description  gives  you 
but  an  imperfect  idea  of  my  garden.  Perhaps  I 
shall  succeed  better  in  describing  my  manner 
of  life,  which  is  as  regular  as  that  of  any  mon- 
astery. I  generally  rise  at  six,  and  as  soon  as  I 
have  breakfasted,  put  myself  at  the  head  of 
my  weeder  women  and  work  with  them  till 
nine.  I  then  inspect  my  dairy,  and  take  a  turn 
among  my  poultry,  which  is  a  very  large  in- 
quiry. I  have,  at  present,  two  hundred  chick- 
ens, besides  turkeys,  geese,  ducks,  and  peacocks. 
All  things  have  hitherto  prospered  under  my 
care  ;  my  bees  and  silkworms  are  doubled,  and 
I  am  told  that,  without  accidents,  my  capital 
will  be  so  in  two  years'  time.  At  eleven  o'clock 
I  retire  to  my  books  ;  I  dare  not  indulge  myself 
in  that  pleasure  above  an  hour.  At  twelve  I 
constantly  dine,  and  sleep  after  dinner  till  about 
three.  I  then  send  for  some  of  my  old  priests, 
and  either  play  at  piquet  or  whist,  till  'tis  cool 
enough  to  go  out.  One  evening  I  walk  in  my 
wood,  where  I  often  sup,  take  the  air  on  horse- 


Mortice  /IRontague    167 


back  the  next,  and  go  on  the  water  the  third. 
The  fishery  of  this  part  of  the  river  belongs  to 
me  ;  and  my  fisherman's  little  boat  (where  I 
have  a  green  lutestring  awning)  serves  me  for  a 
barge.  He  and  his  son  are  my  rowers  without 
any  expense,  he  being  very  well  paid  by  the 
profit  of  the  fish,  which  I  give  him,  on  condi- 
tion of  having  every  day  one  dish  for  my  table. 
Here  is  plenty  of  every  sort  of  fresh-water  fish 
(excepting  salmon)  ;  but  we  have  a  large  trout 
so  like  it,  that  I,  that  have  almost  forgot  the 
taste,  do  not  distinguish  it. 

We  are  both  placed  properly  in  regard  to  our 
different  times  of  life  ;  you  amidst  the  fair,  the 
gallant,  and  the  gay  ;  I  in  a  retreat,  where  I 
enjoy  every  amusement  that  solitude  can  afford. 
I  confess  I  sometimes  wish  for  a  little  conversa- 
tion ;  but  I  reflect  that  the  commerce  of  the 
world  gives  more  uneasiness  than  pleasure, 
and  quiet  is  all  the  hope  that  can  reasonably 
be  indulged  at  my  age.  My  letter  is  of  an  un- 
conscionable length  ;  I  should  ask  your  pardon 
for  it,  but  I  had  a  mind  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
my  passing  my  time,  —  take  it  as  an  instance  of 
the  affection  of,  dear  child, 

Your  most  affectionate  mother. 

My  compliments  to  Lord  Bute,  and  blessing 
to  all  my  grandchildren. 


i68  tTbe  (BarDen 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BUTE. 

Dairy-house,  July  26,  N.S.,  1748. 
I  am  really  as  fond  of  my  garden  as  a  young 
author  of  his  first  play,  when  it  has  been  well 
received  by  the  town,  and  can  no  more  forbear 
teasing  my  acquaintance  for  their  approbation  : 
though  I  gave  you  a  long  account  of  it  in  my 
last,  I  must  tell  you  I  have  made  two  little  ter- 
races, raised  twelve  steps  each,  at  the  end  of  my 
great  walk  ;  they  are  just  finished,  and  a  great 
addition  to  the  beauty  of  my  garden.  I  enclose 
to  you  a  rough  draft  of  it,  drawn  (or  more  prop- 
erly scrawled)  by  my  own  hand,  without  the 
assistance  of  rule  or  compasses,  as  you  will 
easily  perceive.  I  have  mixed  in  my  espaliers 
as  many  rose  and  jessamine  trees  as  I  can  cram 
in  ;  and  in  the  squares  designed  for  the  use  of 
the  kitchen,  have  avoided  putting  any  thing  dis- 
agreeable either  to  sight  or  smell,  having  another 
garden  below  for  cabbage,  onions,  garlic,  etc. 
All  the  walks  are  garnished  with  beds  of  flow- 
ers, beside  the  parterres,  which  are  for  a  more 
distinguished  sort.  I  have  neither  brick  nor 
stone  walls  :  all  my  fence  is  a  high  hedge, 
mingled  with  trees  ;  but  fruit  is  so  plenty  in 
this  country,  nobody  thinks  it  worth  stealing. 
Gardening  is  certainly  the  next  amusement  to 
reading ;  and  as  my  sight  will  now  permit  me 
little  of  that,  I  am  glad  to  form  a  taste  that  can 


IWlortleg  Montague     169 


give  me  so  much  employment,  and  be  the  play- 
thing of  my  age,  now  my  pen  and  needle  are 
almost  useless  to  me.  .  .  . 

Now  the  sea  is  open,  we  may  send  packets  to 
one  another.  I  wish  you  would  send  me  Camp- 
bell's book  of  prints  of  the  English  houses,  and 
that  Lord  Bute  would  be  so  good  as  to  choose 
me  the  best  book  of  practical  gardening  extant. 

TO  THE  COUNTESS   OF  BUTE. 

Salo,  October  17,  1750. 

DEAR  CHII/D:  —  I  received  yours  of  August 
25th  this  morning,  October  17th,  N.S.  It  was 
every  way  welcome  to  me,  particularly  finding 
you  and  your  family  in  good  health.  You  will 
think  me  a  great  rambler,  being  at  present  far 
distant  from  the  date  of  my  last  letter.  I  have 
been  persuaded  to  go  to  a  palace  near  Salo, 
situate  on  the  vast  lake  of  Gardia,  and  do  not 
repent  my  pains  since  my  arrival,  though  I  have 
passed  a  very  bad  road  to  it.  It  is  indeed,  take 
it  altogether,  the  finest  place  I  ever  saw  :  the 
king  of  France  has  nothing  so  fine,  nor  can 
have  in  his  situation.  It  is  large  enough  to 
entertain  all  his  court,  and  much  larger  than 
the  royal  palace  of  Naples,  or  any  of  those  of 
Germany  or  England.  It  was  built  by  the  great 
Cosmo,  Duke  of  Florence,  where  he  passed 


(Barren 


many  months,  for  several  years,  on  the  account 
of  his  health,  the  air  being  esteemed  one  of  the 
best  in  Italy.  All  the  offices  and  conveniences 
are  suitably  magnificent,  but  that  is  nothing  in 
regard  to  the  beauties  without  doors.  It  is 
seated  in  that  part  of  the  lake  which  forms  an 
amphitheatre,  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  near 
three  miles  high,  covered  with  a  wood  of  orange, 
lemon,  citron,  and  pomegranate  trees,  which  is 
all  cut  into  walks,  and  divided  into  terraces, 
that  you  may  go  into  a  several  garden  from 
every  floor  in  the  house,  diversified  with  foun- 
tains, cascades,  and  statues,  and  joined  by 
easy  marble  staircases,  which  lead  from  one  to 
another.  There  are  many  covered  walks,  where 
you  are  secure  from  the  sun  in  the  hottest  part 
of  the  day,  by  the  shade  of  the  orange  trees, 
which  are  so  loaded  with  fruit  you  can  hardly 
have  any  notion  of  their  beauty  without  seeing 
them  :  they  are  as  large  as  lime  trees  in  Eng- 
land. You  will  think  I  say  a  great  deal  :  I  will 
assure  you  I  say  far  short  of  what  I  see,  and 
you  must  turn  to  the  fairy  tales  to  give  any  idea 
of  the  real  charms  of  this  enchanting  palace, 
for  so  it  may  justly  be  called.  The  variety  of 
the  prospects,  the  natural  beauties,  and  the  im- 
provements by  art,  where  no  cost  has  been 
spared  to  perfect  it,  render  it  the  most  complete 
habitation  I  know  in  Europe.  While  the  poor 
present  master  of  it  (to  whose  ancestor  the 


dfcarg  TJlHortleg  dfcontasue    171 

Grand  Duke  presented  it,  having  built  it  on  his 
land),  having  spent  a  noble  estate  by  gaming 
and  other  extravagance,  would  be  glad  to  let  it 
for  a  trifle,  and  is  not  rich  enough  to  live  in  it. 
Most  of  the  fine  furniture  is  sold  ;  there  remains 
only  a  few  of  the  many  good  pictures  that 
adorned  it,  and  such  goods  as  were  not  easily  to 
be  transported,  or  for  which  he  found  no  chap- 
man. I  have  said  nothing  to  you  of  the  mag- 
nificent bath,  embellished  with  statues,  or  the 
fish-ponds,  the  chief  of  which  is  in  the  midst  of 
the  garden  to  which  I  go  from  my  apartment 
on  the  first  floor.  It  is  circled  by  a  marble 
baluster,  and  supplied  by  water  from  a  cascade 
that  proceeds  from  the  mouth  of  a  whale,  on 
which  Neptune  is  mounted,  surrounded  with 
reeds :  on  each  side  of  him  are  Tritons,  which, 
from  their  shells,  pour  out  streams  that  aug- 
ment the  pond.  Higher  on  the  hill  are  three 
colossal  statues  of  Venus,  Hercules,  and  Apollo. 
The  water  is  so  clear  you  see  the  numerous  fish 
that  inhabit  it,  and  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me 
to  throw  them  bread,  which  they  come  to  the 
surface  to  eat  with  great  greediness.  I  pass  by 
many  other  fountains,  not  to  make  my  descrip- 
tion too  tedious.  You  will  wonder,  perhaps, 
never  to  have  heard  any  mention  of  this  para- 
dise either  from  our  English  travellers  or  in  any 
cf  the  printed  accounts  of  Italy  ;  it  is  as  much 
unknown  to  them  as  if  it  was  guarded  by  a 


172  Gbe  Garden 


flaming  cherubim.  I  attribute  that  ignorance, 
in  part,  to  its  being  twenty-five  miles  distant 
from  any  post  town,  and  also  to  the  custom  of 
the  English  of  herding,  together,  avoiding  the 
conversation  of  the  Italians,  who,  on  their  side, 
are  naturally  reserved,  and  do  not  seek  strangers. 
Lady  Orford  could  give  you  some  knowledge 
of  it,  having  passed  the  last  six  months  she 
stayed  here  in  a  house  she  hired  at  Salo ;  but 
as  all  her  time  was  then  taken  up  with  the 
melancholy  vapors  her  distresses  had  thrown 
her  into,  I  question  whether  her  curiosity  ever 
engaged  her  to  see  this  palace,  though  but  half 
a  mile  from  it. 

October  25th. 

I  was  interrupted  in  this  part  of  my  letter  by 
a  visit  from  Count  Martinenghi,  master  of  this 
house,  with  his  son  and  two  daughters*  they 
stayed  till  this  morning,  being  determined  to 
show  me  all  the  fine  places  on  this  side  the  lake, 
to  engage  me  to  glow  fond  of  staying  here,  and 
I  have  had  a  very  pleasant  progress  in  viewing 
the  most  remarkable  palaces  within  ten  miles 
round.  Three  from  hence  is  the  little  town  of 
Maderna,  where  the  last  Duke  of  Mantua  built 
a  retreat  worthy  a  sovereign.  It  is  now  in  the 
hands  of  a  rich  merchant,  who  maintains  it  in 
all  its  beauty.  It  is  not  half  so  large  as  that 


/Ifoars  mottles  flfcontasue     173 

•where  I  am,  but  perfectly  proportioned  and 
uniform,  from  a  design  of  Palladio's.  The  gar- 
den is  in  the  style  of  Le  Notre,  and  the  furni- 
ture in  the  best  taste  of  Paris.  I  am  almost 
ready  to  confess  it  deserves  the  preference  to 
this,  though  built  at  far  less  expense.  The 
situations  are  as  different  as  is  possible,  when 
both  of  them  are  between  a  mountain  and  the 
lake  :  that  under  which  the  Duke  of  Mantua 
chose  to  build  is  much  lower  than  this,  and 
almost  sterile ;  the  prospect  of  it  is  rather 
melancholy  than  agreeable  ;  but  the  palace, 
being  placed  at  the  foot  of  it,  is  a  mile  distant 
from  the  lake,  which  forms  a  sort  of  peninsula, 
half  a  mile  broad,  and  't  is  on  that  is  the  de- 
lightful garden,  adorned  with  parterres,  espa- 
liers, all  sorts  of  exotic  plants,  and  ends  in  a 
thick  wood,  cut  into  ridings.  That  in  the  midst 
is  large  enough  for  a  coach,  and  terminates  at 
the  lake,  which  appears  from  the  windows  like 
a  great  canal  made  on  purpose  to  beautify  the 
prospect.  On  the  contrary,  the  palace  where  I 
lodge  is  so  near  the  water  that  you  step  out  of 
the  gate  into  the  barge,  and  the  gardens  being 
all  divided,  you  cannot  view  from  the  house 
above  one  of  them  at  a  time.  In  short,  these 
two  palaces  .may  in  their  different  beauties  rival 
each  other,  while  they  are  neither  of  them  to 
be  excelled  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 


174  Gbe  <3arfcen 


I  have  wrote  you  a  terrible  long  letter ;  but 
as  you  say  you  are  often  alone,  it  may  serve 
you  for  half  an  hour's  amusement ;  at  least 
receive  it  as  a  proof  that  there  is  none  more 
agreeable  to  me  than  giving  assurances  of  my 
being,  dear  child,  your  most  affectionate  mother. 

My  compliments  to  Lord  Bute,  and  blessing 
to  my  grandchildren. 

P.  S. — Yours  of  the  23d  September  is  just  this 
minute  brought  to  me.  I  heartily  wish  you  and 
my  Lord  Bute  joy  of  his  place  ;  and  wish  it  may 
have  more  advantageous  consequences  ;  but  am 
glad  you  do  not  too  much  found  hopes  on 
things  of  so  much  uncertainty.  I  have  read  S. 
Fielding's  works,  and  should  be  glad  to  hear 
what  is  become  of  her.  All  the  other  books 
would  be  new  to  me  excepting  "Pamela,"  which 
has  met  with  very  extraordinary  (and  I  think 
undeserved)  success.  It  has  been  translated  into 
French  and  into  Italian  ;  it  was  all  the  fashion 
at  Paris  and  Versailles,  and  is  still  the  joy  of  the 
chamber-maids  of  all  nations. 

Direct  the  books  to  the  care  of  Sir  James 
Gray,  the  Knglish  minister  at  Venice. 


THOMAS  WHATELY. 

OBSERVATIONS  ON  MODERN  GARDENING. 


ARDBNING,  in  the  perfection  to  which  it 
has  been  lately  brought  in  Bngland,  is 
entitled  to  a  place  of  considerable  rank  among 
the  liberal  arts.  It  is  as  superior  to  landscape 
painting,  as  a  reality  to  a  representation.  It  is 
an  exertion  of  fancy  ;  a  subject  of  taste  ;  and 
being  released  now  from  the  restraints  of  regu- 
larity, and  enlarged  beyond  the  purposes  of 
domestic  convenience,  the  most  beautiful,  the 
most  simple,  the  most  noble  scenes  of  nature 
are  all  within  its  province  :  for  it  is  no  longer 
confined  to  the  spots  from  which  it  borrows  its 
name,  but  regulates  also  the  disposition  and 
embellishments  of  a  park,  a  farm,  or  a  riding  ; 
and  the  business  of  a  gardener  is  to  select  and 
to  apply  whatever  is  great,  elegant,  or  character- 


1 76  ftbe  (Barren 


istic  in  any  of  them  ;  to  discover  and  to  show  all 
the  advantages  of  the  place  upon  which  he  is 
employed ;  to  supply  its  defects,  to  correct  its 
faults,  and  to  improve  its  beauties. 

For  all  these  operations,  the  objects  of  nature 
are  still  his  only  materials.  His  first  inquiry, 
therefore,  must  be  into  the  means  by  which 
those  effects  are  attained  in  nature,  which  he 
is  to  produce  ;  and  into  those  properties  in  the 
objects  of  nature,  which  should  determine  him 
in  the  choice  and  arrangement  of  them. 

Nature,  always  simple,  employs  but  four  ma- 
terials in  the  composition  of  her  scenes,  ground, 
wood,  water,  and  rocks.  The  cultivation  of  na- 
ture has  introduced  a  fifth  species,  the  buildings 
requisite  for  the  accommodation  of  men.  Each 
of  these  again  admits  of  varieties  in  figure,  di- 
mensions, color,  and  situation.  Bvery  landscape 
is  composed  of  these  parts  only  ;  every  beauty 
in  a  landscape  depends  on  the  application  of 
their  several  varieties. 

OF  GROUND. 

The  prevailing  character  of  a  wood  is  gener- 
ally grandeur ;  the  principal  attention  therefore 
which  it  requires,  is  to  prevent  the  excesses  of 
that  character,  to  diversify  the  uniformity  of  its 
extent,  to  lighten  the  unwieldiness  of  its  bulk, 
and  to  blend  graces  with  greatness.  But  the 


177 


character  of  a  grove  is  beauty  ;  fine  trees  are 
lovely  objects  ;  a  grove  is  an  assemblage  of 
them,  in  which  every  individual  retains  much 
of  its  own  peculiar  elegance  ;  and  whatever  it 
loses,  is  transferred  to  the  superior  beauty  of 
the  whole.  To  a  grove,  therefore,  which  ad- 
mits of  endless  variety  in  the  disposition  of  the 
trees,  differences  in  their  shapes  and  their 
greens  are  seldom  very  important,  and  some- 
times they  are  detrimental.  Strong  contrasts 
scatter  trees  which  are  thinly  planted,  and 
which  have  not  the  connection  of  underwood  ; 
they  no  longer  form  one  plantation  ;  they  are  a 
number  of  single  trees.  A  thick  grove  is  not 
indeed  exposed  to  this  mischief,  and  certain  situ- 
ations may  recommend  different  shapes  and  dif- 
ferent greens  for  their  effects  upon  the  surface  ; 
but  in  the  outline  they  are  seldom  much  re- 
garded. The  eye,  attracted  into  the  depth  of 
the  grove,  passes  by  little  circumstances  at  the 
entrance  ;  even  varieties  in  the  form  of  the 
line  do  not  always  engage  the  attention  :  they 
are  not  so  apparent  as  in  a  continued  thicket, 
and  are  scarcely  seen,  if  they  are  not  consider- 
able. 

But  the  surface  and  the  outline  are  not  the 
only  circumstances  to  be  attended  to.  Though 
a  grove  be  beautiful  as  an  object,  it  is  besides 
delightful  as  a  spot  to  walk  or  to  sit  in  ;  and  the 


178  Gbe  <3arDen 


choice  and  the  disposition  of  the  trees  for  effects 
within  are  therefore  a  principal  consideration. 
Mere  irregularity  alone  will  not  please ;  strict 
order  is  there  more  agreeable  than  absolute 
confusion  ;  and  some  meaning  better  there  than 
none.  A  regular  plantation  has  a  degree  of 
beauty  ;  but  it  gives  no  satisfaction,  because  we 
know  that  the  same  number  of  trees  might  be 
more  beautifully  arranged.  A  disposition,  how- 
ever, in  which  the  lines  only  are  broken,  with- 
out varying  the  distances,  is  less  natural  than 
any  ;  for  though  we  cannot  find  straight  lines 
in  a  forest,  we  are  habituated  to  them  in  the 
hedgerows  of  fields  ;  but  neither  in  wild  nor  in 
cultivated  nature  do  we  ever  see  trees  equi-dis- 
tant  from  each  other  :  that  regularity  belongs 
to  art  alone.  The  distances  therefore  should  be 
strikingly  different ;  the  trees  should  gather  into 
groups,  or  stand  in  various  irregular  lines,  and 
describe  several  figures  ;  the  intervals  between 
them  should  be  contrasted  both  in  shape  and  in 
dimensions  ;  a  large  space  should  in  some  places 
be  quite  open  ;  in  others  the  trees  should  be  so 
close  together  as  hardly  to  leave  a  passage  be- 
tween them  ;  and  in  others  as  far  apart  as  the 
connection  will  allow.  In  the  forms  and  the 
varieties  of  these  groups,  these  lines,  and  these 
openings,  principally  consists  the  interior  beauty 
of  a  grove. 


Gbomas  Wbatelg  179 


The  force  of  them  is  most  strongly  illustrated 
at  Claremont  *  ;  where  the  walk  to  the  cottage, 
though  destitute  of  many  natural  advantages, 
and  eminent  for  none  ;  though  it  commands  no 
prospect  ;  though  the  water  below  it  is  a  trifling 
pond  ;  though  it  has  nothing,  in  short,  but  in- 
equality of  ground  to  recommend  it,  is  yet  the 
finest  part  of  the  garden.  For  a  grove  is  there 
planted,  in  a  gently  curved  direction,  all  along 
the  side  of  a  hill,  and  on  the  edge  of  a  wood, 
which  rises  above  it.  Large  recesses  break  it 
into  several  clumps,  which  hang  down  the  de- 
clivity ;  some  of  them  approaching,  but  none 
reaching  quite  to,  the  bottom.  These  recesses 
are  so  deep  as  to  form  great  openings  in  the 
midst  of  the  grove  ;  they  penetrate  almost  to 
the  covert  ;  but  the  clumps  being  all  equally 
suspended  from  the  wood,  and  a  line  of  open 
plantation,  though  sometimes  narrow,  running 
constantly  along  the  top,  a  continuation  of  grove 
is  preserved,  and  the  connection  between  the 
parts  is  never  broken.  Bven  a  group,  which  near 
one  of  the  extremities  stands  out  quite  detached, 
is  still  in  style  so  familiar  to  the  rest  as  not  to  lose 
all  relation.  Bach  of  these  clumps  is  composed 
of  several  others  still  more  intimately  united  : 
each  is  full  of  groups,  sometimes  of  no  more 
*  Near  E)sher  in  Surrey. 


i8o  ftbe  (Barren 


than  two  trees,  sometimes  of  four  or  five,  and 
now  and  then  in  larger  clusters  ;  an  irregular 
waving  line,  issuing  from  some  little  crowd, 
loses  itself  in  the  next  ;  or  a  few  scattered  trees 
drop  in  a  more  distant  succession  from  the  one 
to  the  other.  The  intervals,  winding  here  like 
a  glade,  and  widening  there  into  broader  open- 
ings, differ  in  extent,  in  figure,  and  direction  ; 
but  all  the  groups,  the  lines,  and  the  intervals 
are  collected  together  into  large  general  clumps, 
each  of  which  is  at  the  same  time  both  compact 
and  free,  identical  and  various.  The  whole  is  a 
place  wherein  to  tarry  with  secure  delight,  or 
saunter  with  perpetual  amusement. 


The  grove  at  Bsher  Place  was  planted  by  the 
same  masterly  hand  ;  but  the  necessity  of  ac- 
commodating the  young  plantation  to  some 
large  trees  which  grew  there  before,  has  con- 
fined its  variety.  The  groups  are  few  and 
small  ;  there  was  not  room  for  larger  or  for 
more  ;  there  were  no  opportunities  to  form 
continued  narrow  glades  between  opposite 
lines  ;  the  vacant  spaces  are  therefore  chiefly 
irregular  openings  spreading  every  way,  and 
great  differences  of  distance  between  the  trees 
are  the  principal  variety  ;  but  the  grove  winds 
along  the  bank  of  a  large  river,  on  the  side  and 


ttbomas  IKHbatelE  181 


at  the  foot  of  a  very  sudden  ascent,  the  upper 
part  of  which  is  covered  with  wood.  In  one 
place  it  presses  close  to  the  covert  ;  retires  from 
it  in  another  ;  and  stretches  in  a  third  across  a 
bold  recess,  which  runs  up  high  into  the 
thicket.  The  trees  sometimes  overspread  the 
flat  below  :  sometimes  leave  an  open  space  to 
the  river  ;  at  other  times  crown  the  brow  of  a 
large  knoll,  climb  up  a  steep,  or  hang  on  a 
gentle  declivity.  These  varieties  in  the  situa- 
tion more  than  compensate  for  the  want  of 
variety  in  the  disposition  of  the  trees  ;  and  the 
many  happy  circumstances  which  concur 

—  In  Ksher's  peaceful  grove, 
Where  Kent  and  nature  vie  for  Pelham's  love," 

render  this  little  spot  more  agreeable  than  any 
at  Claremont.  But  though  it  was  right  to  pre- 
serve the  trees  already  standing,  and  not  to 
sacrifice  great  present  beauties  to  still  greater 
in  futurity,  yet  this  attention  has  been  a  re- 
straint, and  the  grove  at  Claremont,  considered 
merely  as  a  plantation,  is  in  delicacy  of  taste, 
and  fertility  of  invention,  superior  to  that  at 
Esher. 

Both  were  early  essays  in  the  modern  art  of 
gardening  :  and,  perhaps  from  the  eagerness  to 
show  the  effect,  the  trees  in  both  were  placed 
too  near  together  :  though  they  are  still  far 


ttbc  (Sarbert 


short  of  their  growth,  they  are  run  up  into 
poles,  and  the  groves  are  already  past  their 
prime  ;  but  the  temptation  to  plant  for  such 
a  purpose  no  longer  exists,  now  that  experience 
has  justified  the  experiment.  If,  however,  we 
still  have  not  patience  to  wait,  it  is  possible  to 
secure  both  a  present  and  a  future  effect,  by 
fixing  first  on  a  disposition  which  will  be  beau- 
tiful when  the  trees  are  large,  and  then  inter- 
mingling another  which  is  agreeable  while  they 
are  small.  These  occasional  trees  are  hereafter 
to  be  taken  away ;  and  must  be  removed  in 
time,  before  they  become  prejudicial  to  the 
others. 

The  consequence  of  variety  in  the  disposition 
is  variety  in  the  light  and  shade  of  the  grove  ; 
which  may  be  improved  by  the  choice  of  the 
trees.  Some  are  impenetrable  to  the  fiercest 
sunbeam  ;  others  let  in  here  and  there  a  ray  be- 
tween the  large  masses  of  their  foliage ;  and 
others,  thin  both  of  boughs  and  of  leaves,  only 
checker  the  ground.  Every  degree  of  light  and 
shade,  from  a  glare  to  obscurity,  may  be  man- 
aged, partly  by  the  number,  and  partly  by  the 
texture  of  the  trees.  Differences  only  in  the 
manner  of  their  growths  have,  also,  correspond- 
irg  effects;  there  is  a  closeness  under  those 
v.  uose  branches  descend  low,  and  spread  wide ; 
a  space  and  liberty  where  the  arch  above  is 


fcbomas  tUCibatelg  183 

high  ;  and  frequent  transitions  from  the  one  to 
the  other  are  very  pleasing.  These  still  are  not 
all  the  varieties  of  which  the  interior  of  a  grove 
is  capable.  Trees  indeed,  whose  branches  nearly 
reach  the  ground,  being  each  a  sort  of  thicket, 
are  inconsistent  with  an  open  plantation.  But 
though  some  of  the  characteristic  distinctions 
are  thereby  excluded,  other  varieties  more 
minute  succeed  in  their  place  ;  for  the  freedom 
of  passage  throughout  brings  every  tree  in  its 
turn  near  to  the  eye,  and  subjects  even  differ- 
ences in  foliage  to  observation.  These,  slight 
as  they  may  seem,  are  agreeable  when  they 
occur :  it  is  true  they  are  not  regretted  when 
wanting  ;  but  a  defect  of  ornament  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  blemish. 

BLENHEIM. 

A  river  requires  a  number  of  accompaniments  ; 
the  changes  in  its  course  furnish  a  variety  of 
situations  ;  while  the  fertility,  convenience,  and 
amenity  which  attend  it,  account  for  all  appear- 
ances of  inhabitants  and  improvement.  Profu- 
sion of  ornament  on  a  fictitious  river,  is  a  just 
imitation  of  cultivated  nature  ;  every  species  of 
building,  every  style  of  plantation,  may  abound 
on  the  banks  ;  and  whatever  be  their  characters, 
their  proximity  to  the  water  is  commonly  the 


184  tTbe  (Barfcen 


happiest  circumstance  in  their  situation.  A 
lustre  is  from  thence  diffused  on  all  around ; 
each  derives  an  importance  from  its  relation  to 
this  capital  feature ;  those  which  are  near 
enough  to  be  reflected,  immediately  belong  to 
it ;  those  at  a  greater  distance,  still  share  in  the 
animation  of  the  scene  ;  and  objects  totally  de- 
tached from  each  other,  being  all  attracted 
towards  the  same  interesting  connection,  are 
united  into  one  composition. 

In  the  front  of  Blenheim  was  a  deep  broad 
valley,  which  abruptly  separated  the  castle 
from  the  tlawn  and  the  plantations  before  it  :• 
even  a  direct  approach  could  not  be  made, 
without  building  a  monstrous  bridge  over  this 
vast  hollow  :  but  the  forced  communication  was 
only  a  subject  of  raillery,  and  the  scene  con- 
tinued broken  into  two  parts,  absolutely  distinct 
from  each  other.  This  valley  has  been  lately 
flooded  ;  it  is  not  filled  ;  the  bottom  only  is 
covered  with  water ;  the  sides  are  still  very  high, 
but  they  are  no  longer  the  steeps  of  a  chasm  ; 
they  are  the  bold  shores  of  a  noble  river.  The 
same  bridge  is  standing  without  alteration  ;  but 
no  extravagance  remains  ;  the  water  gives  it 
propriety.  Above  it,  the  river  first  appears, 
winding  from  behind  a  small  thick  wood  in  the 
valley ;  and  soon  taking  a  determined  course,  it 
is  then  broad  enough  to  admit  an  island  filled 


tTbomae  tDdbatelg  185 


with  the  finest  trees  ;  others,  corresponding  to 
them  in  growth  and  disposition,  stand  in 
groups  on  the  banks,  intermixed  with  younger 
plantations.  Immediately  below  the  bridge, 
the  river  spreads  into  a  large  expanse  ;  the 
sides  are  open  lawn  ;  on  that  farthest  from  the 
house  formerly  stood  the  palace  of  Henry  the 
Second,  celebrated  in  many  an  ancient  ditty  by 
the  name  of  fair  Rosamond's  Bower  ;  a  little 
clear  spring  which  rises  there  is  by  the  country 
people  still  called  fair  Rosamond's  Well  :  the 
spot  is  now  marked  by  a  single  willow.  Near  it 
is  a  fine  collateral  stream,  of  a  beautiful  form, 
retaining  its  breadth  as  far  as  it  is  seen,  and 
retiring  at  last  behind  a  hill  from  the  view. 
The  main  river,  having  received  this  accession, 
makes  a  gentle  bend,  then  continues  for  a  con- 
siderable length  in  one  wide  direct  reach,  and, 
just  as  it  disappears,  throws  itself  down  a  high 
cascade,  which  is  the  present  termination.  On 
one  of  the  banks  of  this  reach  is  the  garden  ;  the 
steeps  are  there  diversified  with  thickets  and 
with  glades  ;  but  the  covert  prevails,  and  the 
top  is  crowned  with  lofty  trees.  On  the  other 
side  is  a  noble  hanging  wood  in  the  park  ;  it  was 
depreciated  when  it  sunk  into  a  hollow,  and 
was  poorly  lost  in  the  bottom  ;  but  it  is  now 
a  rich  appendage  to  the  river,  falling  down  an 
easy  slope  quite  to  the  water's  edge,  where, 


{The  (Sateen 


without  overshadowing,  it  is  reflected  on  the 
surface.  Another  face  of  the  same  wood  bor- 
ders the  collateral  stream,  with  an  outline  more 
indented  and  various  ;  while  a  very  large  irregu- 
lar clump  adorns  the  opposite  declivity.  This 
clump  is  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the 
principal  river ;  but  the  stream  it  belongs  to 
brings  it  down  to  connect  with  the  rest ;  and 
the  other  objects,  which  were  before  dispersed, 
are  now,  by  the  interest  of  each  in  a  relation 
which  is  common  to  all,  collected  into  one 
illustrious  scene.  The  castle  is  itself  a  prodi- 
gious pile  of  building,  which,  with  all  the 
faults  in  its  architecture,  will  never  seem  less 
than  a  truly  princely  habitation  ;  and  the  con- 
fined spot  where  it  was  placed,  on  the  edge  of 
an  abyss,  is  converted  into  a  proud  situation, 
commanding  a  beautiful  prospect  of  water,  and 
open  to  an  extensive  lawn,  adequate  to  the 
mansion,  and  an  emblem  of  its  domain.  In  the 
midst  of  this  lawn  stands  a  column,  a  stately 
trophy,  recording  the  exploits  of  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  and  the  gratitude  of  Britain.  Be- 
tween this  pillar  and  the  castle  is  the  bridge, 
which  now,  applied  to  a  subject  worthy  of  it,  is 
established  in  all  the  importance  due  to  its 
greatness.  The  middle  arch  is  wider  than  the 
Rialto,  but  not  too  wide  for  the  occasion  ;  and 


Cbomae  MbatelB  187 

yet  this  is  the  narrowest  part  of  the  river :  but 
the  length  of  the  reaches  is  everywhere  pro- 
portioned to  their  breadth;  each  of  them  is 
alone  a  noble  piece  of  water ;  and  the  last,  the 
finest  of  all,  loses  itself  gradually  in  a  wood, 
which  on  that  side  is  also  the  boundary  of  the 
lawn,  and  rises  into  the  horizon.  All  is  great  in 
the  front  of  Blenheim  ;  but  in  that  vast  space  no 
void  appears,  so  important  are  the  parts,  so 
magnificent  the  objects.  The  plain  is  extensive ; 
the  valley  is  broad ;  the  wood  is  deep ;  though 
the  intervals  between  the  buildings  are  large, 
they  are  filled  with  the  grandeur  which  build- 
ings of  such  dimensions,  and  so  much  pomp, 
diffuse  all  around  them  ;  and  the  river  in  its 
long  varied  course,  approaching  to  every  object, 
and  touching  upon  every  part,  spreads  its  influ- 
ence over  the  whole.  Notwithstanding  their 
distances  from  each  other,  they  all  seem  to  be 
assembled  about  the  water,  which  is  everywhere 
a  fine  expanse,  whose  extremities  are  undeter- 
mined. In  size,  in  form,  and  in  style,  it  is  equal 
to  the  majesty  of  the  scene  ;  and  is  designed  in 
the  spirit,  is  executed  with  the  liberality,  of  the 
original  donation,  when  this  residence  of  a 
mighty  monarch  was  bestowed  by  a  great  peo- 
ple as  a  munificent  reward  on  the  hero  who  had 
deserved  best  of  his  country. 


i88  ttbe 


WOTTON  AND   THE  VAI,E   OF  AYI.KSBURY. 

In  the  composition  of  this  scene,  the  river, 
both  as  a  part  itself  and  as  uniting  the  other 
parts,  has  a  principal  share  ;  but  water  is  not 
lost,  though  it  be  in  so  confined  or  so  concealed 
a  spot  as  to  enter  into  no  view  ;  it  may  render 
that  spot  delightful ;  it  is  capable  of  the  most 
exquisite  beauty  in  its  form  ;  and,  though  not 
in  space,  may  yet  in  disposition  have  preten- 
sions to  greatness  ;  for  it  may  be  divided  into 
several  branches,  which  will  form  a  cluster  of 
islands  all  connected  together,  make  the  whole 
place  irriguous,  and,  in  the  stead  of  extent, 
supply  a  quantity  of  water.  Such  a  sequestered 
scene  usually  owes  its  retirement  to  the  trees 
and  the  thickets  with  which  it  abounds  ;  but 
in  the  disposition  of  them,  one  distinction 
should  be  constantly  attended  to  ;  a  river  flow- 
ing through  a  wood,  which  overspreads  one 
continued  surface  of  ground,  and  a  river  be- 
tween two  woods,  are  in  very  different  circum- 
stances. In  the  latter  case,  the  woods  are 
separate ;  they  may  be  contracted  in  their 
forms  and  their  characters,  and  the  outline  of 
each  should  be  forcibly  marked.  In  the  former, 
no  outline  ought  to  be  discernible,  for  the  river 
passes  between  trees,  not  between  boundaries  ; 
and  though  in  the  progress  of  its  course  the 
style  of  the  plantations  may  be  often  changed, 


Gbomas  Wbatels  189 

yet  on  the  opposite  banks  a  similarity  should 
constantly  prevail,  that  the  identity  of  the  wood 
may  never  be  doubtful. 

A  river  between  two  woods  may  enter  into  a 
view,  and  then  it  must  be  governed  by  the 
principles  which  regulate  the  conduct  and  the 
accompaniments  of  a  river  in  an  open  exposure  ; 
but  when  it  runs  through  a  wood,  it  is  never  to 
be  seen  in  prospect.  The  place  is  naturally 
full  of  obstructions,  and  a  continued  opening 
large  enough  to  receive  a  long  reach  would 
seem  an  artificial  cut.  The  river  must  there- 
fore necessarily  wind  more  than  in  crossing  a 
lawn,  where  the  passage  is  entirely  free,  but 
its  influence  will  never  extend  so  far  on  the 
sides.  The  buildings  must  be  near  the  banks, 
and,  if  numerous,  will  seem  crowded,  being  all 
in  one  track  and  in  situations  nearly  alike. 
The  scene,  however,  does  not  want  variety  ;  on 
the  contrary,  none  is  capable  of  more.  The 
objects  are  not,  indeed,  so  different  from  each 
other  as  in  an  open  view,  but  they  are  very  dif- 
ferent and  in  much  greater  abundance,  for  this 
is  the  interior  of  a  wood,  where  every  tree  is  an 
object,  every  combination  of  trees  a  variety, 
and  no  large  intervals  are  requisite  to  distin- 
guish the  several  dispositions.  The  grove,  the 
thicket,  or  the  groups  may  prevail,  and  their 
forms  and  their  relations  may  be  constantly 


IQO  Gbe  <3arDen 


changed  without  restraint  of  fancy  or  limita- 
tion of  number. 

Water  is  so  universally  and  so  deservedly  ad- 
mired in  a  prospect  that  the  most  obvious 
thought  in  the  management  of  it  is  to  lay  it  as 
open  as  possible,  and  purposely  to  conceal  it 
would  generally  seem  a  severe  self-denial.  Yet 
so  many  beauties  may  attend  its  passage  through 
a  wood,  that  larger  portions  of  it  might  be 
allowed  to  such  retired  scenes  than  are  com- 
monly spared  from  the  view,  and  the  different 
parts  in  different  styles  would  then  be  fine  con- 
trasts to  each  other.  If  the  water  at  Wotton* 
were  all  exposed,  a  walk  of  near  two  miles 
along  the  banks  would  be  of  a  tedious  length, 
from  the  want  of  those  changes  of  the  scene 
which  now  supply  through  the  whole  extent  a 
succession  of  perpetual  variety.  That  extent  is 
so  large  as  to  admit  of  a  division  into  four  prin- 
cipal parts,  all  of  them  great  in  style  and  in 
dimensions,  and  differing  from  each  other  both 
in  character  and  situation.  The  two  first  are 
the  best.  The  one  is  a  reach  of  a  river  about 
the  third  of  a  mile  in  length  and  of  a  competent 
breadth,  flowing  through  a  lovely  mead,  open 
in  some  places  to  views  of  beautiful  hills  in 
the  country,  and  adorned  in  others  with  clumps 

*  The  seat  of  Mr.  Grenville,  in  the  vale  of  Aylesbury, 
in  Buckinghamshire. 


Gbomas  WbatelB  191 

of  trees,  so  large  that  their  branches  stretch 
quite  across  and  form  a  high  arch  over  the 
water.  The  next  seems  to  have  been  once  a 
formal  basin  encompassed  with  plantations, 
and  the  appendages  on  either  side  still  retain 
some  traces  of  regularity  ;  but  the  shape  of  the 
basin  is  free  from  them.  The  size  is  about 
fourteen  acres,  and  out  of  it  issue  two  broad, 
collateral  streams  winding  towards  a  large 
river,  which  they  are  seen  to  approach  and  sup- 
posed to  join.  A  real  junction  is,  however,  im- 
possible, from  the  difference  of  the  levels  :  but 
the  terminations  are  so  artfully  concealed  that 
the  deception  is  never  suspected,  and,  when 
known,  is  not  easily  explained.  The  river  is 
the  third  great  division  of  the  water ;  a  lake 
into  which  it  falls  is  the  fourth.  These  two  do 
actually  join,  but  their  characters  are  directly 
opposite.  The  scenes  they  belong  to  are  totally 
distinct,  and  the  transition  from  the  one  to  the 
other  is  very  gradual,  for  an  island  near  the 
conflux,  dividing  the  breadth  and  concealing 
the  end  of  the  lake,  moderates  for  some  way 
the  space  ;  and,  permitting  it  to  expand  but  by 
degrees,  raises  an  idea  of  greatness  from  un- 
certainty accompanied  with  increase.  The  real- 
ity does  not  disappoint  the  expectation,  and 
the  island,  which  is  the  point  of  view,  is  itself 
equal  to  the  scene,  It  is  large,  and  high  above 


192  Gbe  <3atf>en 


the  lake ;  the  ground  is  irregularly  broken  ; 
thickets  hang  on  the  sides,  and  towards  the  top 
is  placed  an  Ionic  portico,  which  commands  a 
noble  extent  of  water  not  less  than  a  mile  in 
circumference,  bounded  on  one  side  with  wood 
and  open  on  the  other  to  two  sloping  lawns, 
the  least  of  an  hundred  acres,  diversified  with 
clumps  and  bordered  by  plantations.  Yet  this 
lake,  when  full  in  view  and  with  all  the  import- 
ance which  space,  form,  and  situation  can  give,  is 
not  more  interesting  than  the  sequestered  river, 
which  has  been  mentioned  as  the  third  great 
division  of  the  water.  It  is  just  within  the 
verge  of  a  wood  three  quarters  of  a  mile  long, 
everywhere  broad,  and  its  course  is  such  as  to 
admit  of  infinite  variety  without  any  confusion. 
The  banks  are  cleared  of  underwood,  but  a  few 
thickets  still  remain,  and  on  one  side  an 
impenetrable  covert  soon  begins.  The  interval 
is  a  beautiful  grove  of  oaks,  scattered  over  a 
green  sward  of  extraordinary  verdure.  Between 
these  trees  and  these  thickets  the  river  seems 
to  glide  gently  along,  constantly  winding, 
without  one  short  turn  or  one  extended  reach 
in  the  whole  length  of  the  way.  This  even 
temper  in  the  stream  suits  the  scenes  through 
which  it  passes.  They  are,  in  general,  of  a 
very  sober  cast ;  not  melancholy,  but  grave  : 
never  exposed  to  a  glare  ;  never  darkened  with 


Gbomae  TKHbatelB  193 

gloom,  nor  by  strong  contrasts  of  light  and 
shade  exhibiting  the  excess  of  either.  Un- 
disturbed by  an  extent  of  prospects  without, 
or  a  multiplicity  of  objects  within,  they  re- 
tain at  all  times  a  mildness  of  charac- 
ter, which  is  still  more  forcibly  felt  when 
the  shadows  grow  faint  as  they  lengthen  ;  when 
a  little  rustling  of  birds  in  the  spray,  the  leap- 
ing of  the  fish,  and  the  fragrancy  of  the  wood- 
bine denote  the  approach  of  evening ;  while  the 
setting  sun  shoots  its  last  gleams  on  a  Tuscan 
portico  which  is  close  to  the  great  basin,  but 
which,  from  a  seat  near  this  river,  is  seen  at  a 
distance  through  all  the  obscurity  of  the  wood, 
glowing  on  the  banks  and  reflected  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  In  another  still  more  distin- 
guished spot  is  built  an  elegant  bridge,  with  a 
colonnade  upon  it,  which  not  only  adorns  the 
place  where  it  stands,  but  is  also  a  picturesque 
object  to  an  octagon  building  near  the  lake, 
where  it  is  shown  in  a  singular  situation,  over- 
arched, encompassed,  and  backed  with  wood, 
without  any  appearance  of  the  water  beneath. 
This  building,  in  return,  is  also  an  object  from 
the  bridge,  and  a  Chinese  room,  in  a  little  island 
just  by,  is  another.  Neither  of  them  are  con- 
siderable, and  the  others  which  are  visible  are 
at  a  distance.  But  more  or  greater  adventitious 
ornaments  are  not  required  in  a  spot  so  rich  as 


194 


this  in  beauties  peculiar  to  its  character.  A 
profusion  of  water  pours  in  from  all  sides 
round  upon  the  view  ;  the  opening  of  the  lake 
appears  ;  a  glimpse  is  caught  of  the  large  basin  ; 
one  of  the  collateral  streams  is  full  in  sight; 
and  the  bridge  itself  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
finest  part  of  the  river.  All  seem  to  communi- 
cate the  one  with  the  other,  though  thickets 
often  intercept,  and  groups  perplex  the  view, 
yet  they  never  break  the  connection  between 
the  several  pieces  of  water ;  each  may  still  be 
traced  along  large  branches,  or  little  catches, 
which  in  some  places  are  overshadowed  and 
dim ;  in  others  glisten  through  a  glade,  or 
glimmer  between  the  boles  of  trees  in  a  distant 
perspective ;  and  in  one,  where  they  are  quite 
lost  to  the  view,  some  arches  of  a  stone  bridge, 
but  partially  seen  among  the  wood,  preserve 
their  connection.  However  interrupted,  how- 
ever varied,  they  still  appear  to  be  parts  of  one 
whole,  which  has  all  the  intricacy  of  number, 
and  the  greatness  of  unity  ;  the  variety  of  a 
stream,  and  the  quantity  of  a  lake  ;  the  solem- 
nity of  a  wood,  and  the  animation  of  water. 

OF  A   GARDEN. 

The  gravel  paths  have  been  mentioned  as 
contributing  to  the  appearance  of  a  garden ; 
they  are  unusual  elsewhere ;  they  constantly 


Gbomas  TKHbatelE  195 

present  the  idea  of  a  walk  ;  and  the  correspond- 
ence between  their  sides,  the  exactness  of  the 
edges,  the  nicety  of  the  materials  and  of  the 
preservation,  appropriate  them  to  spots  in  the 
highest  state  of  improvement.  Applied  to  any 
other  subject  than  a  park,  their  effect  is  the 
same.  A  field  surrounded  by  a  gravel  walk  is  to 
a  degree  bordered  by  a  garden  ;  and  many  orna- 
ments may  be  introduced  as  appendages  to  the 
latter,  which  would  otherwise  appear  to  be 
inconsistent  with  the  former.  When  these  ac- 
companiments occupy  a  considerable  space,  and 
are  separated  from  the  field,  the  idea  of  a  garden 
is  complete  as  far  as  they  extend  ;  but  if  the 
gravel  be  omitted,  and  the  walk  be  only  of  turf, 
a  greater  breadth  to  the  border  and  more  rich- 
ness in  the  decorations  are  necessary  to  preserve 
that  idea. 

Many  gardens  are  nothing  more  than  such  a 
walk  round  a  field ;  that  field  is  often  raised  to 
the  character  of  a  lawn,  and  sometimes  the 
enclosure  is,  in  fact,  a  paddock ;  whatever  it 
be,  the  walk  is  certainly  garden  ;  it  is  a  spot  set 
apart  for  pleasure  ;  it  admits  on  the  sides  a 
profusion  of  ornament ;  it  is  fit  for  the  recep- 
tion of  every  elegance,  and  requires  the  nicest 
preservation  ;  it  is  attended  also  with  many 
advantages,  may  be  made  and  kept  without 
much  expense,  leads  to  a  variety  of  points,  and 


196  Gbe  <3arfcen 


avails  itself  in  its  progress  of  the  several  cir- 
cumstances which  belong  to  the  enclosure  it 
surrounds,  whether  they  be  the  rural  appurte- 
nances of  a  farm,  or  those  more  refined  which 
distinguish  a  paddock. 

But  it  has  at  the  same  time  its  inconveniences 
and  defects  :  its  approach  to  the  several  points 
is  always  circuitous,  and  they  are  thereby  often 
thrown  to  a  distance  from  the  house  and  from 
each  other ;  there  is  no  access  to  them  across 
the  open  exposure  ;  the  way  must  constantly  be 
the  same  ;  the  view  all  along  is  into  one  open- 
ing, which  must  be  peculiarly  circumstanced  to 
furnish  within  itself  a  sufficient  variety,  and  the 
embellishments  of  the  walk  are  seldom  import- 
ant :  their  number  is  limited,  and  the  little 
space  allotted  for  their  reception  admits  only 
of  those  which  can  be  accommodated  to  the 
scale  and  will  conform  to  the  character.  This 
species  of  garden,  therefore,  reduces  almost  to 
a  sameness  all  the  places  it  is  applied  to ;  the 
subject  seems  exhausted  ;  no  walk  round  a  field 
can  now  be  very  different  from  several  others 
already  existing.  At  the  best,  too,  it  is  but  a 
walk  ;  the  fine  scenery  of  a  garden  is  wanting, 
and  that  in  the  field,  which  is  substituted  in  its 
stead,  is  generally  of  an  inferior  character,  and 
often  defective  in  connection  with  the  spot 
which  commands  it,  by  the  intervention  of  the 


Gbomas  Mbatel^  197 


fence,  or  the  visible  difference  in  the  preserva- 
tion. 

This  objection,  however,  has  more  or  less 
force,  according  to  the  character  of  the  enclos- 
ure :  if  that  be  a  paddock  or  a  lawn  it  may 
exhibit  scenes  not  unworthy  of  the  most  elegant 
garden,  which,  agreeing  in  style,  will  unite  in 
appearance  with  the  garden.  The  other  objec- 
tions also  are  stronger  or  weaker  in  proportion 
to  the  space  allowed  for  the  appendages,  and 
not  applicable  at  all  to  a  broad  circuit  of  gar- 
den, which  has  room  within  itself  for  scenery, 
variety,  and  character  ;  but  the  common  narrow 
walk,  too  indiscriminately  in  fashion,  if  con- 
tinued to  a  considerable  extent,  becomes  very 
tiresome,  and  the  points  it  leads  to  must  be 
more  than  ordinarily  delightful  to  compensate 
for  the  fatigue  of  the  way. 

This  tediousness  may,  however,  be  remedied 
without  any  extravagant  enlargement  of  the 
plan,  by  taking  in  at  certain  intervals  an  addi- 
tional breadth,  sufficient  only  for  a  little  scene 
to  interrupt  the  uniformity  of  the  progress. 
The  walk  is  then  a  communication,  not  between 
points  of  view,  through  all  which  it  remains 
unaltered,  but  between  the  several  parts  of  a 
garden,  in  each  of  which  it  is  occasionally  lost, 
and,  when  resumed,  it  is  at  the  worst  a  repeti- 
tion, not  a  continuation,  of  the  same  idea  ;  the 


198  ftbe  (Barbert 


eye  and  the  mind  are  not  always  confined  to 
one  tract:  they  expatiate  at  times,  and  have 
been  relieved  before  they  returned  to  it.  An- 
other expedient,  the  very  reverse  of  this,  may 
now  and  then  be  put  in  practice :  it  is  to  con- 
tract, instead  of  enlarging,  the  plan  ;  to  carry 
the  walk,  and  in  some  part  of  its  course,  directly 
into  the  field,  or,  at  the  most,  to  secure  it  from 
cattle ;  but  to  make  it  quite  simple,  omit  all  its 
appendages  and  drop  every  idea  of  a  garden. 
If  neither  of  these  nor  any  other  means  be  used 
to  break  the  length  of  the  way,  though  the 
enclosures  should  furnish  a  succession  of  scenes, 
all  beautiful,  and  even  contrasted  to  each  other, 
yet  the  walk  will  introduce  a  similarity  between 
them.  This  species  of  garden,  therefore,  seems 
proper  only  for  a  place  of  a  very  moderate 
extent ;  if  it  be  stretched  out  to  a  great  length, 
and  not  mixed  with  other  characters,  its  same- 
ness hurts  that  variety,  which  it  is  its  peculiar 
merit  to  discover. 

But  the  advantages  attending  it  upon  some, 
and  the  use  of  it  on  so  many  occasions,  have 
raised  a  partiality  in  its  favor,  and  it  is  often 
carried  round  a  place  where  the  whole  enclosure 
is  garden;  the  interior  openings  and  communi- 
cations furnish  there  a  sufficient  range,  and 
they  do  not  require  that  number  and  variety  of 
appendages  which  must  be  introduced  to  dis- 


ttbomas  MbatelE  199 


guise  the  uniformity  of  the  circuitous  walk,  but 
which  often  interfere  with  greater  effect.  It  is 
at  the  least  unnecessary  in  such  a  garden,  but 
plain  gravel  walks  to  every  part  are  commonly 
deemed  to  be  indispensable  ;  they  undoubtedly 
are  convenient,  but  it  must  also  be  acknowl- 
edged, that  though  sometimes  they  adorn,  yet,  at 
other  times,  they  disfigure,  the  scenes  through 
which  they  are  conducted.  The  proprietor  of 
the  place,  who  visits  these  scenes  at  different 
seasons,  is  most  anxious  for  their  beauty  in  fine 
weather  ;  he  does  not  feel  the  restraint  to  be 
grievous,  if  all  of  them  be  not  at  all  times  equally 
accessible,  and  a  gravel  walk  perpetually  before 
him,  especially  when  it  is  useless,  must  be  irk- 
some ;  it  ought  not,  therefore,  to  be  ostenta- 
tiously shown  ;  on  many  occasions  it  should  be 
industriously  concealed.  That  it  lead  to  the 
capital  points  is  sufficient  ;  it  can  never  be 
requisite  along  the  whole  extent  of  every  scene  ; 
it  may  often  skirt  a  part  of  them  without  appear- 
ing, or  just  touch  upon  them  and  withdraw  ;  but 
if  it  cannot  be  induced  at  all  without  hurting 
them,  it  ought  commonly  to  be  omitted. 

The  sides  of  a  gravel  walk  must  correspond, 
and  its  course  be  in  sweeps  gently  bending  all 
the  way.  It  preserves  its  form,  though  con- 
ducted through  woods  or  along  glades  of  the 
most  licentious  irregularity.  But  a  grass  walk 


200  ZTbe  (SarDen 


is  under  no  restraint :  the  sides  of  it  may  be 
perpetually  broken,  and  the  direction  frequently 
changed — sudden  turns,  however,  are  harsh ; 
they  check  the  idea  of  progress  ;  they  are  rather 
disappointments  than  varieties,  and  if  they  are 
familiar  they  are  in  the  worst  style  of  affecta- 
tion. The  line  must  be  curved,  but  it  should 
not  be  wreathed  ;  if  it  be  truly  serpentine,  it  is 
the  most  unnatural  of  any  ;  it  ought  constantly 
to  proceed,  and  wind  only  just  so  much,  that 
the  termination  of  the  view  may  differ  at  every 
step,  and  the  end  of  the  walk  never  appear  ;  the 
thickets  which  confine  it  should  be  diversified 
with  several  mixtures  of  greens  ;  no  distinctions 
in  the  forms  of  the  shrubs  or  the  trees  will  be 
lost,  when  there  are  opportunities  to  observe 
them  so  nearly ;  and  combinations  and  con- 
trasts without  number  may  be  made,  which  will 
be  there  truly  ornamental.  Minute  beauties  are 
proper  in  a  spot  precluded  from  great  effects:  and 
yet  such  a  walk,  if  it  be  broad,  is  by  no  means 
insignificant ;  it  may  have  an  importance  which 
will  render  it  more  than  a  mere  communication. 
But  the  peculiar  merit  of  that  species  of  gar- 
den which  occupies  the  whole  enclosure,  con- 
sists in  the  larger  scenes  ;  it  can  make  room  for 
them  both  in  breadth  and  in  length  ;  and,  being 
dedicated  entirely  to  pleasure,  free  from  all 
other  considerations,  those  scenes  may  be  in 


Gbomas 


any  style  which  the  nature  of  the  place  will  al- 
low ;  a  number  of  them  is  expected,  all  different, 
sometimes  contrasted,  and  each  distinguished 
by  its  beauty.  If  the  space  be  divided  into  lit- 
tle slips,  and  made  only  a  collection  of  walks, 
it  forfeits  all  its  advantages,  loses  its  character, 
and  can  have  no  other  excellence  than  such  as 
it  may  derive  from  situation  j  whereas  by  a  more 
liberal  disposition  it  may  be  made  independent 
of  whatever  is  external  ;  and  though  prospects 
are  nowhere  more  delightful  than  from  a  point 
of  view  which  is  also  a  beautiful  spot,  yet  if  in 
such  a  garden  they  should  be  wanting,  the  ele- 
gant, picturesque,  and  various  scenes  within 
itself  almost  supply  the  deficiency. 

THE  GARDENS  AT  STOWE. 

This  is  the  character  of  the  gardens  at  Stowe  ; 
for  there  the  views  into  the  country  are  only 
circumstances  subordinate  to  the  scenes,  and 
the  principal  advantage  of  the  situation  is  the 
variety  of  the  ground  within  the  enclosure. 
The  house  stands  on  the  brow  of  a  gentle 
ascent  ;  parts  of  the  gardens  lie  on  the  declivity, 
and  spread  over  the  bottom  beyond  it  ;  this  emi- 
nence is  separated  by  a  broad  winding  valley 
from  another  which  is  higher  and  steeper  ;  and 
the  descents  of  both  are  broken  by  large  dips 
and  hollows,  sloping  down  the  sides  of  the  hills. 


202  Gbe  (Barfcen 


The  whole  space  is  divided  into  a  number 
of  scenes,  each  distinguished  with  taste  and 
fancy  ;  and  the  changes  are  so  frequent,  so  sud- 
den, and  complete,  the  transitions  so  artfully 
conducted,  that  the  same  ideas  are  never  con- 
tinued or  repeated  to  satiety. 

These  gardens  were  begun  when  regularity 
was  in  fashion ;  and  the  original  boundary  is 
still  preserved  on  account  of  its  magnificence  ; 
for  round  the  whole  circuit,  of  between  three 
and  four  miles,  is  carried  a  very  broad  gravel 
walk,  planted  with  rows  of  trees,  and  open 
either  to  the  park  or  the  country  ;  a  deep-sunk 
fence  attends  it  all  the  way,  and  comprehends  a 
space  of  near  four  hundred  acres.  But  in  the 
interior  scenes  of  the  garden  few  traces  of  regu- 
larity appear  ;  where  it  yet  remains  in  the  planta- 
tions it  is  generally  disguised  ;  every  symptom 
almost  of  formality  is  obliterated  from  the 
ground  ;  and  an  octagon  basin  in  the  bottom  is 
now  converted  into  an  irregular  piece  of  water, 
which  receives  on  one  hand  two  beautiful 
streams,  and  falls  on  the  other  down  a  cascade 
into  a  lake. 

In  the  front  of  the  house  is  a  considerable 
lawn,  open  to  the  water,  beyond  which  are  two 
elegant  Doric  pavilions,  placed  in  the  boundary 
of  the  garden,  but  not  marking  it,  though  they 
correspond  to  each  other  ;  for  still  farther  back, 


ftbomas  t&batetg  203 

on  the  brow  of  some  rising  grounds  without  the 
enclosure,  stands  a  noble  Corinthian  arch,  by 
which  the  principal  approach  is  conducted,  and 
from  which  all  the  gardens  are  seen  reclining 
back  against  their  hills  ;  they  are  rich  with 
plantations,  full  of  objects,  and  lying  on  both 
sides  of  the  house  almost  equally,  every  part  is 
within  a  moderate  distance,  notwithstanding 
the  extent  of  the  whole. 

On  the  right  of  the  lawn,  but  concealed  from 
the  house,  is  a  perfect  garden  scene  called  the 
Queen's  Amphitheatre,  where  art  is  avowed, 
though  formality  is  avoided  ;  the  foreground  is 
scooped  into  a  gentle  hollow  ;  the  plantations 
on  the  sides,  though  but  just  rescued  from  regu- 
larity, yet  in  style  are  contrasted  to  each  other  ; 
they  are,  on  one  hand,  chiefly  thickets,  standing 
out  from  a  wood ;  on  the  other,  they  are  open 
groves,  through  which  a  glimpse  of  the  water 
is  visible  ;  at  the  end  of  the  hollow,  on  a  little 
knoll,  quite  detached  from  all  appendages,  is 
placed  an  open  Ionic  rotunda ;  beyond  it  a 
large  lawn  slopes  across  the  view  ;  a  pyramid 
stands  on  the  brow  ;  the  Queen's  Pillar,  in  a 
recess  on  the  descent ;  and  all  the  three  build- 
ings being  evidently  intended  for  ornament 
alone,  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  a  garden  scene  ; 
yet  their  number  does  not  render  it  gay  ;  the 
dusky  hue  of  the  pyramid,  the  retired  situation 


204  tTbe  (Barfcett 


of  the  Queen's  Pillar,  and  the  solitary  appear- 
ance of  the  rotunda,  give  it  an  air  of  gravity  ;  it 
is  encompassed  with  wood ;  and  all  external 
views  are  excluded  ;  even  the  opening  into  the 
lawn  is  but  an  opening  into  an  enclosure. 

At  the  King's  Pillar,  very  near  to  this,  is  an- 
other lovely  spot,  which  is  small,  but  not  con- 
fined, for  no  termination  appears  ;  the  ground 
one  way,  the  water  another,  retire  under  the 
trees  out  of  sight,  but  nowhere  meet  with  a 
boundary ;  the  view  is  first  over  some  very 
broken  ground,  thinly  and  irregularly  planted  ; 
then  between  two  beautiful  clumps,  which  fea- 
ther down  to  the  bottom,  and  afterwards  across 
a  glade,  and  through  a  little  grove  beyond  it, 
to  that  part  of  the  lake  where  the  thickets  close 
upon  the  brink,  spread  a  tranquillity  over  the 
surface,  in  which  their  shadows  are  reflected. 
Nothing  is  admitted  to  disturb  that  quiet ;  no 
building  obtrudes  ;  for  objects  to  fix  the  eye  are 
needless  in  a  scene,  which  may  be  compre- 
hended at  a  glance ;  and  none  would  suit  the 
pastoral  idea  it  inspires,  of  elegance  too  refined 
for  a  cottage,  and  of  simplicity  too  pure  for  any 
other  edifice. 

The  situation  of  the  rotunda  promises  a  pros- 
pect more  enlarged,  and,  in  fact,  most  of  the 
objects  on  this  side  the  garden  are  there  visible  ; 
but  they  want  both  connection  and  contrast ; 


Gbomas  TDdbatelg  205 

each  belongs  peculiarly  to  some  other  spot ; 
they  are  all  blended  together  in  this,  without 
meaning,  and  are  rather  shown  on  a  map  than 
formed  into  a  picture.  The  water  only  is  capi- 
tal ;  a  broad  expanse  of  it  is  so  near  as  to  be 
seen  under  the  little  groups  on  the  bank  with- 
out interruption  ;  beyond  it  is  a  wood,  which  in 
one  place  leaves  the  lake  to  run  up  behind  a 
beautiful  building  of  three  pavilions,  joined  by 
arcades,  all  of  the  Ionic  order ;  it  is  called 
Kent's  Building ;  and  never  was  a  design  more 
happily  conceived ;  it  seems  to  be  character- 
istically proper  for  a  garden  ;  it  is  so  elegant,  so 
varied,  and  so  purely  ornamental ;  it  directly 
fronts  the  rotunda,  and  a  narrow  rim  of  the 
country  appears  above  the  trees  beyond  it ;  but 
the  effect  even  of  this  noble  object  is  fainter 
here  than  at  other  points ;  its  position  is 
not  the  most  advantageous ;  and  it  is  but  one 
among  many  other  buildings,  none  of  which 
are  principal. 

The  scene  at  the  Temple  of  Bacchus  is  in 
character  directly  the  reverse  of  that  about  the 
rotunda,  though  the  space  and  the  objects  are 
nearly  the  same  in  both.  But  in  this,  all  the 
parts  concur  to  form  one  whole  :  the  ground 
from  every  side  shelves  gradually  towards  the 
lake ;  the  plantations  on  the  farthest  bank 
open  to  show  Kent's  Building,  rise  from  the 


206  ftbe  <3arfcen 


water's  edge  towards  the  knoll  on  which  it 
stands,  and  close  again  behind  it.  That  elegant 
structure,  inclined  a  little  from  a  front  view, 
becomes  more  beautiful  by  being  thrown  into 
perspective  ;  and  though  at  a  greater  distance, 
is  more  important  than  before,  because  it  is 
alone  in  the  view  ;  for  the  Queen's  Pillar  and 
the  rotunda  are  removed  far  aside,  and  every 
other  circumstance  refers  to  this  interesting 
object ;  the  water  attracts,  the  ground  and  the 
plantations  direct  the  eye  thither,  and  the 
country  does  not  just  glimmer  in  the  offscape, 
but  is  close  and  eminent  above  the  wood,  and 
connected  by  clumps  with  the  garden.  The 
scene  altogether  is  a  most  animated  landscape, 
and  the  splendor  of  the  building,  the  reflection 
in  the  lake,  the  transparency  of  the  water,  and 
the  picturesque  beauty  of  its  form,  diversified 
by  little  groups  on  the  brink,  while  on  the 
broadest  expanse  no  more  trees  cast  their  shad- 
ows than  are  sufficient  to  vary  the  tints  of  the 
surface — all  these  circumstances,  vying  in  lus- 
tre with  each  other,  and  uniting  in  the  point 
to  which  every  part  of  the  scene  is  related,  dif- 
fuse a  peculiar  brilliancy  over  the  whole  com- 
position. 

The  view  from  Kent's  Building  is  very  differ- 
ent from  those  which  have  been  hitherto 
described :  they  are  all  directed  down  the  de» 


ftbomas  WbatelB  207 

clivity  of  the  lawn ;  this  rises  up  the  ascent ;  the 
eminence,  being  crowned  with  lofty  wood, 
becomes  thereby  more  considerable  and  the 
hillocks,  into  which  the  general  fall  is  broken, 
sloping  farther  out  this  way  than  any  other, 
they  also  acquire  an  importance  which  they 
had  not  before.  That  particularly  on  which  the 
rotunda  is  placed,  seems  here  to  be  a  proud 
situation,  and  the  structure  appears  to  be 
properly  adapted  to  so  open  an  exposure.  The 
Temple  of  Bacchus,  on  the  contrary,  which 
commands  such  an  illustrious  view,  is  itself  a 
retired  object,  close  under  the  covert.  The  wood 
rising  on  the  brow,  and  descending  down  one 
side  of  the  hill,  is  shown  to  be  deep  ;  is  high, 
and  seems  to  be  higher  than  it  is.  The  lawn, 
too,  is  extensive  ;  and  part  of  the  boundary 
being  concealed,  it  suggests  the  idea  of  a  still 
greater  extent.  A  small  portion  only  of  the 
lake,  indeed,  is  visible,  but  it  is  not  here  an 
object ;  it  is  a  part  of  the  spot,  and  neither  ter- 
mination being  in  sight,  it  has  no  diminutive 
appearance.  If  more  water  had  been  admitted, 
it  might  have  hurt  the  character  of  the  place, 
which  is  sober  and  temperate,  neither  solemn 
nor  gay,  great  and  simple,  but  elegant,  above 
rusticity,  yet  free  from  ostentation. 

These  are  the  principal  scenes  on  one  side  of 
the  gardens ;  on  the  other,  close  to  the  lawn 


208  Gbe  (Barren 


before  the  house,  is  the  winding  valley  above- 
mentioned  ;  the  lower  part  of  it  is  assigned  to 
the  Blysian  fields  ;  they  are  watered  by  a  lovely 
rivulet,  are  very  lightsome,  and  very  airy,  so 
thinly  are  the  trees  scattered  about  them,  are 
open  at  one  end  to  more  water  and  a  larger 
glade,  and  the  rest  of  the  boundary  is  frequent- 
ly broken  to  let  in  objects  afar  off,  which  ap- 
pear still  more  distant  from  the  manner  of 
showing  them.  The  entrance  is  under  a  Doric 
arch,  which  coincides  with  an  opening  among 
the  trees,  and  forms  a  kind  of  vista,  through 
which  a  Pembroke  bridge  just  below,  and  a 
lodge  built  like  a  castle  in  the  park,  are  seen 
in  a  beautiful  perspective.  That  bridge  is  at  one 
extremity  of  the  gardens,  the  Queen's  Pillar  is 
at  another,  yet  both  are  visible  from  the  same 
station  in  the  Blysian  fields,  and  all  these 
external  objects  are  unaffectedly  introduced, 
divested  of  their  own  appurtenances,  and  com- 
bined with  others  which  belong  to  the  spot. 
The  Temple  of  Friendship  also  is  in  sight  just 
without  the  place,  and  within  it  are  the  Temples 
of  Ancient  Virtue  and  of  the  British  worthies, 
the  one  in  an  elevated  situation,  the  other  down 
in  the  valley,  and  near  to  the  water.  Both  are 
decorated  with  the  effigies  of  those  who  have 
been  most  distinguished  for  military,  civil,  or 
literary  merit ;  and  near  to  the  former  stands  a 


Gbomas  TKHbatelg  209 

rostral  column,  sacred  to  the  memory  of  Cap- 
tain Grenville,  who  fell  in  an  action  at  sea.  By 
placing  here  the  meed  of  valor,  and  by  filling 
these  fields  with  the  representations  of  those 
who  have  deserved  best  of  mankind,  the  char- 
acter intended  to  be  given  to  the  spot  is  justly 
and  poetically  expressed,  and  the  number  of  the 
images  which  are  presented  or  excited  per- 
fectly corresponds  with  it.  Solitude  was  never 
reckoned  among  the  charms  of  Elysium  ;  it  has 
been  always  pictured  as  the  mansion  of  delight 
and  of  joy,  and  in  this  imitation  every  circum- 
stance accords  with  that  established  idea  :  the 
vivacity  of  the  stream  which  flows  through  the 
vale,  the  glimpses  of  another  approaching  to 
join  it,  the  sprightly  verdure  of  the  green- 
sward, and  every  bust  of  the  British  worthies, 
reflected  in  the  water  ;  the  variety  of  the  trees, 
the  lightness  of  their  greens,  their  disposition, 
all  of  them  distinct  objects,  and  dispersed  over 
gentle  inequalities  of  the  ground,  together  with 
the  multiplicity  of  objects,  both  within  and 
without,  which  embellish  and  enliven  the  scene, 
give  it  a  gayety  which  the  imagination  can 
hardly  conceive,  or  the  heart  wish  to  be  ex- 
ceeded. 

Close  by  this  spot,  and  a  perfect  contrast  to 
it,  is  the  alder  grove,  a  deep  recess  in  the  midst 
of  a  shade,  which  the  blaze  of  noon  cannot 


2io 


brighten.  The  water  seems  to  be  a  stagnated 
pool,  eating  into  its  banks,  and  of  a  peculiar 
color,  not  dirty,  but  cloudy,  and  dimly  reflect- 
ing the  dun  hue  of  the  horse-chestnuts  and 
alders,  which  press  upon  the  brink.  The  stems 
of  the  latter,  rising  in  clusters  from  the  same 
root,  bear  one  another  down,  and  slant  over  the 
water.  Misshaped  elms  and  ragged  firs  are  fre- 
quent in  the  wood  which  encompasses  the 
hollow ;  the  trunks  of  dead  trees  are  left  stand- 
ing amongst  them ;  and  the  uncouth  sumach, 
and  the  yew,  with  elder,  nut,  and  holly,  com- 
pose the  underwood ;  some  limes  and  laurels 
are  intermixt,  but  they  are  not  many.  The 
wood  is  in  general  of  the  darkest  greens,  and 
the  foliage  is  thickened  with  ivy,  which  not 
only  twines  up  the  trees,  but  creeps  also  over 
the  falls  of  the  ground ;  they  are  steep  and 
abrupt.  The  gravel  walk  is  covered  with  moss  ; 
and  a  grotto  at  the  end,  faced  with  broken  flints 
and  pebbles,  preserves,  in  the  simplicity  of  its 
materials  and  the  duskiness  of  its  color,  all  the 
character  of  its  situation.  Two  little  rotundas 
near  it  were  better  away ;  one  building  is 
sufficient  for  such  a  scene  of  solitude  as  this, 
in  which  more  circumstances  of  gloom  concur 
than  were  ever  perhaps  collected  together. 

Immediately  above  the  alder  grove  is  the 
principal  eminence  in  the  garden  ;  it  is  divided 


Gbomas  Wbatelg  211 


by  a  great  dip  into  two  pinnacles,  upon  one  of 
which  is  a  large  Gothic  building.  The  space  be- 
fore this  structure  is  an  extensive  lawn  ;  the 
ground  on  one  side  falls  immediately  into  the 
dip  ;  and  the  trees  which  border  the  lawn,  sink- 
ing with  the  ground,  the  house  rises  above 
them,  and  fills  the  interval.  The  vast  pile 
seems  to  be  still  larger  than  it  is;  for  it  is 
thrown  into  perspective,  and  between  and  above 
the  heads  of  the  trees,  the  upper  story,  the  por- 
ticos, the  turrets  and  balustrades,  and  all  the 
slated  roofs  appear  in  a  noble  confusion.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  Gothic  building  the  ground 
slopes  down  a  long-continued  declivity  into  a 
bottom,  which  seems  to  be  perfectly  irriguous. 
Divers  streams  of  water  wander  about  it  in 
several  directions  ;  the  conflux  of  that  which 
runs  from  the  Klysian  fields  with  another  below 
it,  is  in  full  sight  ;  and  a  plain  wooden  bridge 
thrown  over  the  latter,  and  evidently  designed 
for  a  passage,  imposes  an  air  of  reality  on  the 
river.  Beyond  it  is  one  of  the  Doric  porticos 
which  front  the  house,  but  now  it  is  alone  ;  it 
stands  on  a  little  bank  above  the  water,  and  is 
seen  under  some  trees  at  a  distance  before  it. 
Thus  grouped,  and  thus  accompanied,  it  is  a 
happy  incident,  concurring  with  many  other 
circumstances  to  distinguish  this  landscape  by  &. 
character  of  cheerfulness  and  amenity, 


212 


From  the  Gothic  building  a  broad  walk  leads 
to  the  Grecian  valley,  which  is  a  scene  of  more 
grandeur  than  any  in  the  gardens ;  it  enters 
them  from  the  park,  spreading  at  first  to  a 
considerable  breadth,  then  winds,  grows  nar- 
rower but  deeper,  and  loses  itself  at  last  in  a 
thicket,  behind  some  lofty  elms,  which  interrupt 
the  sight  of  the  termination.  L,ovely  woods  and 
groves  hang  all  the  way  on  the  declivities,  and 
the  open  space  is  broken  by  detached  trees, 
which  near  the  park  are  cautiously  and  sparing- 
ly introduced,  lest  the  breadth  should  be  con- 
tracted by  them  ;  but  as  the  valley  sinks  they 
advance  more  boldly  down  the  sides,  stretch 
across  or  along  the  bottom,  and  cluster  at  times 
into  groups  and  forms,  which  multiply  the 
varieties  of  the  larger  plantations.  Those  are 
sometimes  close  coverts,  and  sometimes  open 
groves.  The  trees  rise  in  one  upon  high  stems, 
and  feather  down  to  the  bottom  in  another,  and 
between  them  are  short  openings  in  the  park  or 
the  gardens.  In  the  midst  of  the  scene,  just  at 
the  bend  of  the  valley  and  commanding  it  on 
both  sides,  upon  a  large,  easy,  natural  rise,  is 
placed  the  Temple  of  Concord  and  Victory.  At 
one  place  its  majestic  front  of  six  Ionic  col- 
umns, supporting  a  pediment  filled  with  bas- 
relief,  and  the  points  of  it  crowned  with  statues, 
faces  the  view ;  at  another,  the  beautiful  colon- 


Cbomas  TJdbatetg  213 

nade  on  the  side  of  ten  lofty  pillars  retires  in 
perspective.  It  is  seen  from  every  part,  and 
impressing  its  own  character  of  dignity  on  all 
around,  it  spreads  an  awe  over  the  whole,  but 
no  gloom,  no  melancholy  attends  it.  The  sensa- 
tions it  excites  are  rather  placid,  but  full  of 
respect,  admiration,  and  solemnity  ;  no  water 
appears  to  enliven,  no  distant  prospect  to  enrich, 
the  view.  The  parts  of  the  scene  are  larger,  the 
idea  of  it  sublime,  and  the  execution  happy  ; 
it  is  independent  of  all  adventitious  circum- 
stances, and  relies  on  itself  for  its  greatness. 

The  scenes  which  have  been  described  are 
such  as  are  most  remarkable  for  beauty  or 
character,  but  the  gardens  contain  many  more ; 
and  even  the  objects  in  these,  by  their  several 
combinations,  produce  very  different  effects, 
within  the  distance  sometimes  of  a  few  paces, 
from  the  unevenness  of  the  ground,  the  variety 
of  the  plantations,  and  the  number  of  the  build- 
ings. The  multiplicity  of  the  last  has  indeed 
been  often  urged  as  an  objection  to  Stowe  ;  and 
certainly  when  all  are  seen  by  a  stranger  in  two 
or  three  hours,  twenty  or  thirty  capital  struc- 
tures, mixed  with  others  of  inferior  note,  do 
seem  too  many  ;  but  the  growth  of  the  wood 
every  day  weakens  the  objection,  by  concealing 
them  one  from  the  other.  Bach  belongs  to  a 
distinct  scene  ;  and  if  they  are  considered  sep- 


(Barbett 


arately,  at  different  times,  and  at  leisure,  it  may 
be  difficult  to  determine  which  to  take  away ; 
yet  still  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  their 
frequency  destroys  all  ideas  of  silence  and  re- 
tirement. Magnificence  and  splendor  are  the 
characteristics  of  Stowe  ;  it  is  like  one  of  those 
places  celebrated  in  antiquity,  which  were  de- 
voted to  the  purposes  of  religion,  and  filled 
with  sacred  groves,  hallowed  fountains,  and 
temples  dedicated  to  several  deities  ;  the  resort 
of  distant  nations,  and  the  object  of  venera- 
tion to  half  the  heathen  world.  This  pomp  is 
at  Stowe  blended  with  beauty,  and  the  place  is 
equally  distinguished  by  its  amenity  and  its 
grandeur. 

In  the  midst  of  so  much  embellishment  as 
may  be  introduced  into  this  species  of  garden, 
a  plain  field,  or  a  sheep  walk,  is  sometimes  an 
agreeable  relief,  and  even  wilder  scenes  may 
occasionally  be  admitted.  These  indeed  are  not 
properly  parts  of  a  garden,  but  they  may  be 
comprehended  within  the  verge  of  it,  and  their 
proximity  to  the  more  ornamented  scenes  is  at 
least  a  convenience,  that  the  transition  from  the 
one  to  the  other  may  be  easy,  and  the  change 
always  in  our  option  :  for  though  a  spot  in  the 
highest  state  of  improvement  be  a  necessary 
r.ppendage  to  a  seat,  yet  in  a  place  which  is 


tTbomas  Mbatetg 


perfect,  other  characters  will  not  be  wanting ; 
if  they  cannot  be  had  on  a  large  scale,  they  are 
acceptable  on  a  smaller  ;  and  so  many  circum- 
stances are  common  to  all,  that  they  may  always 
border  on  each  other. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

DESCRIPTION  OF   A  CHINESE  GARDEN. 
From  "  The  Citizen  of  the  World." 

THE  English  have  not  yet  brought  the  art 
of  gardening  to  the  same  perfection  with 
the  Chinese,  but  have  lately  begun  to  imitate 
them  :  nature  is  now  followed  with  greater  as- 
siduity than  formerly  ;  the  trees  are  suffered 
to  shoot  out  into  the  utmost  luxuriance  ;  the 
streams,  no  longer  forced  from  their  native 
beds,  are  permitted  to  wind  along  the  valleys  ; 
spontaneous  flowers  take  the  place  of  finished 
parterre,  and  the  enamelled  meadow  of  the 
shaven  green. 

Yet  still  the  English  are  far  behind  us  in  this 
charming  art  ;  their  designers  have  not  yet 
attained  a  power  of  uniting  instruction  with 
beauty.  A  European  will  scarcely  conceive 


©liver  (BolDsmftb  217 

my  meaning,  when  I  say  that  there  is  scarce  a 
garden  in  China  which  does  not  contain  some 
fine  moral,  couched  under  the  general  design, 
where  one  is  not  taught  wisdom  as  he  walks, 
and  feels  the  force  of  some  noble  truth,  or  deli- 
cate precept,  resulting  from  the  disposition 
of  the  groves,  streams,  or  grottos.  Permit  me 
to  illustrate  what  I  mean  by  a  description  of  my 
gardens  at  Quamsi.  My  heart  still  hovers 
round  those  scenes  of  former  happiness  with 
pleasure  ;  and  I  find  a  satisfaction  in  enjoying 
them  at  this  distance,  though  but  in  imagina- 
tion. 

You  descended  from  the  house  between  two 
groves  of  trees,  planted  in  such  a  manner  that 
they  were  impenetrable  to  the  eye  ;  while  on 
each  hand  the  way  was  adorned  with  all  that 
was  beautiful  in  porcelain,  statuary,  and  paint- 
ing. This  passage  from  the  house  opened  into 
an  arena  surrounded  with  rocks,  flowers,  trees, 
and  shrubs,  but  all  so  disposed  as  if  each  was 
the  spontaneous  production  of  nature.  As  you 
proceeded  forward  on  this  lawn,  to  your  right 
and  left  hand  were  two  gates,  opposite  each 
other,  of  very  different  architecture  and  design  ; 
and  before  you  lay  a  temple,  built  rather  with 
minute  elegance  than  ostentation. 

The  right-hand  gate  was  planned  with  the 
utmost  simplicity,  or  rather  rudeness ;  ivy 


tTbe  (Sarfcett 


clasped  round  the  pillars,  the  baleful  cypress 
hung  over  it ;  time  seems  to  have  destroyed  all 
the  smoothness  and  regularity  of  the  stone  ;  two 
champions  with  lifted  clubs  appeared  in  the  act 
of  guarding  its  access  ;  dragons  and  serpents 
were  seen  in  the  most  hideous  attitudes,  to  deter 
the  spectator  from  approaching ;  and  the  per- 
spective view  that  lay  behind  seemed  dark  and 
gloomy  to  the  last  degree  ;  the  stranger  was 
tempted  to  enter  only  from  the  motto — Pervia 
Virtuti. 

The  opposite  gate  was  formed  in  a  very  indif- 
ferent manner ;  the  architecture  was  light,  ele- 
gant, and  inviting  ;  flowers  hung  in  wreaths 
round  the  pillars  ;  all  was  finished  in  the  most 
exact  and  masterly  manner  ;  the  very  stone  of 
which  it  was  built  still  preserved  its  polish  ; 
nymphs,  wrought  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  in 
the  most  alluring  attitudes,  beckoned  the  stran- 
ger to  approach ;  while  all  that  lay  behind,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  seemed  gay,  luxuri- 
ant, and  capable  of  affording  endless  pleasures. 
The  motto  itself  contributed  to  invite  him,  for 
over  the  gate  were  written  these  words — Facilis 
Descensus. 

By  this  time  I  fancy  you  begin  to  perceive 
that  the  gloomy  gate  was  designed  to  represent 
the  road  to  Virtue ;  the  opposite,  the  more 
agreeable  passage  to  Vice.  It  is  but  natural  to 


©liver  (Botfcemftb 


suppose  that  the  spectator  was  always  tempted 
to  enter  by  the  gate  which  offered  him  so  many 
allurements.  I  always  in  these  cases  left  him 
to  his  choice,  but  generally  found  that  he  took 
to  the  left,  which  promised  most  entertainment. 

Immediately  upon  his  entering  the  gate  of 
Vice  the  trees  and  flowers  were  disposed  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  make  the  most  pleasing  impres- 
sion ;  but  as  he  walked  farther  on,  he  insensibly 
found  the  garden  assuming  the  air  of  a  wilder- 
ness ;  the  landscapes  began  to  darken,  the  paths 
grew  more  intricate ;  he  appeared  to  go  down- 
wards ;  frightful  rocks  seemed  to  hang  over  his 
head  ;  gloomy  caverns,  unexpected  precipices, 
awful  ruins,  heaps  of  unburied  bones,  and  ter- 
rifying sounds  caused  by  unseen  waters,  began  to 
take  the  place  of  what  at  first  appeared  so  lovely. 
It  was  in  vain  to  attempt  returning ;  the  laby- 
rinth was  too  much  perplexed  for  any  but  my- 
self to  find  the  way  back.  In  short,  when  suffi- 
ciently impressed  with  the  horrors  of  what  he 
saw,  and  the  imprudence  of  his  choice,  I  brought 
him  by  a  hidden  door  a  shorter  way  back  into 
the  area  from  whence  at  first  he  had  strayed. 

The  gloomy  gate  now  presented  itself  before 
the  stranger,  and  though  there  seemed  little  in 
its  appearance  to  tempt  his  curiosity,  yet,  en- 
couraged by  the  motto,  he  gradually  proceeded. 
The  darkness  of  the  entrance,  the  frightful  fig- 


220  tlbe  (Barren 


ures  that  seemed  to  obstruct  his  way,  the  trees 
of  the  mournful  green,  conspired  at  first  to  dis- 
gust him  ;  as  he  went  forward,  however,  all 
began  to  open  and  wear  a  more  pleasing  ap- 
pearance ;  beautiful  cascades,  beds  of  flowers, 
trees  loaded  with  fruit  or  blossoms,  and  unex- 
pected brooks,  improved  the  scene.  He  now 
found  that  he  was  ascending,  and,  as  he  pro- 
ceeded, all  nature  grew  more  beautiful ;  the 
prospect  widened  as  he  went  higher  ;  even  the 
air  itself  seemed  to  become  more  pure.  Thus 
pleased  and  happy  from  unexpected  beauties, 
I  at  last  led  him  to  an  arbor,  from  whence  he 
could  view  the  garden  and  the  whole  country 
around,  and  where  he  might  own  that  the  road 
to  Virtue  terminated  in  Happiness. 

Though  from  this  description  you  may  ima- 
gine that  a  vast  tract  of  ground  was  necessary  to 
exhibit  such  a  pleasing  variety  in,  yet  be  as- 
sured I  have  seen  several  gardens  in  England 
take  up  ten  times  the  space  which  mine  did, 
without  half  the  beauty.  A  very  small  extent 
of  ground  is  enough  for  an  elegant  taste ;  the 
greater  room  is  required  if  magnificence  is  in 
view.  There  is  no  spot,  though  ever  so  little, 
which  a  skilful  designer  might  not  thus  im- 
prove, so  as  to  convey  a  delicate  allegory,  and 
impress  the  mind  with  truths  the  most  useful 
and  necessary.  Adieu ! 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  A  POET'S  GARDEN. 

OF  all  men  who  form  gay  illusions  of  distant 
happiness,  perhaps  the  poet  is  the  most 
sanguine.  Such  is  the  ardor  of  his  hopes,  that 
they  are  often  equal  to  actual  enjoyment ;  he 
feels  more  in  expectance  than  actual  fruition. 
I  have  often  regarded  the  character  of  this  kind 
with  some  degree  of  envy.  A  man  possessed  of 
such  warm  imagination  commands  all  nature, 
and  arrogates  possessions  of  which  the  owner 
has  a  blunter  relish.  While  life  continues,  the 
alluring  prospect  lies  before  him  ;  he  travels  in 
the  pursuit  with  confidence,  and  resigns  it  only 
with  his  last  breath. 

It  is  this  happy  confidence  which  gives  life  its 
true  relish,  and  keeps  up  our  spirits  amidst  every 
distress  and  disappointment.  How  much  less 
would,  be  done  if  a  man  knew  how  little  lie  can 


222  Ube  <$arfcen 


do !  How  wretched  a  creature  would  he  be  if 
he  saw  the  end  as  well  as  the  beginning  of  his 
projects  !  He  would  have  nothing  left  but  to  sit 
down  in  torpid  despair,  and  exchange  employ- 
ment for  actual  calamity. 

I  was  led  into  this  train  of  thinking  upon  lately 
visiting  the  beautiful  gardens  of  the  late  Mr. 
Shenstone,*  who  was  himself  a  poet,  and  pos- 
sessed of  that  warm  imagination  which  made 
him  ever  foremost  in  the  pursuit  of  flying  hap- 
piness. Could  he  but  have  foreseen  the  end  of 
all  his  schemes,  for  whom  he  was  improving, 
and  what  changes  his  designs  were  to  undergo, 
he  would  have  scarcely  amused  his  innocent 
life  with  what,  for  several  years,  employed  him 
in  a  most  harmless  manner,  and  abridged  his 
scanty  fortune.  As  the  progress  of  this  im- 
provement is  a  true  picture  of  sublunary  vicissi- 
tude, I  could  not  help  calling  up  my  imagina- 
tion, which,  while  I  walked  pensively  along, 
suggested  the  following  reverie. 

As  I  was  turning  my  back  upon  a  beautiful 
piece  of  water  enlivened  with  cascades  and  rock- 
work,  and  entering  a  dark  walk  by  which  ran  a 
prattling  brook,  the  Genius  of  the  Place  ap- 
peared before  me,  but  more  resembling  the  God 
of  Time  than  him  more  peculiarly  appointed  to 

*"The  I^easowes,"  sometimes  spoken  of  as  a  ferme 
i  situated  between  Birmingham  and  Hagley, 


<3oR>0mitb  223 


the  care  of  gardens.  Instead  of  shears  he  bore 
a  scythe  ;  and  he  appeared  rather  with  the  im- 
plements of  husbandry  than  those  of  a  modern 
gardener.  Having  remembered  this  place  in  its 
pristine  beauty,  I  could  not  help  condoling  with 
him  on  its  present  ruinous  situation.  I  spoke  to 
him  of  the  many  alterations  which  had  been 
made,  and  all  for  the  worse  ;  of  the  many  shades 
which  had  been  taken  away  ;  of  the  bowers  that 
were  destroyed  by  neglect,  and  the  hedgerows 
that  were  spoiled  by  clipping.  The  Genius 
with  a  sigh  received  my  condolement,  and 
assured  me  that  he  was  equally  a  martyr  to 
ignorance  and  taste,  to  refinement  and  rusticity. 
Seeing  me  desirous  of  knowing  further,  he  went 
on  : 

"  You  see,  in  the  place  before  you,  the  pater- 
nal inheritance  of  a  poet  ;  and  to  a  man  content 
with  little,  fully  sufficient  for  his  subsistence  : 
but  a  strong  imagination  and  a  long  acquaint- 
ance with  the  rich  are  dangerous  foes  to  con- 
tentment. Our  poet,  instead  of  sitting  down  to 
enjoy  life,  resolved  to  prepare  for  its  future  en- 
joyment, and  set  about  converting  a  place  of 
profit  into  a  scene  of  pleasure.  This  he  at  first 
supposed  could  be  accomplished  at  a  small  ex- 
pense ;  and  he  was  willing  for  a  while  to  stint 
his  income,  to  have  an  opportunity  of  display- 
ing his  taste.  The  improvement  in  this  manner 


224  Gbe  (Barfcen 


went  forward  ;  one  beauty  attained  led  him  to 
wish  for  some  other :  but  he  still  hoped  that 
every  emendation  would  be  the  last.  It  was 
now,  therefore,  found  that  the  improvement  ex- 
ceeded the  subsidy,  that  the  place  was  grown  too 
large  and  too  fine  for  the  inhabitant.  But  that 
pride  which  was  once  exhibited  could  not  retire  : 
the  garden  was  made  for  the  owner,  and  though 
it  was  become  unfit  for  him,  he  could  not  will- 
ingly resign  it  to  another.  Thus  the  first  idea 
of  its  beauties  contributing  to  the  happiness  of 
his  life  was  found  unfaithful ;  so  that,  instead 
of  looking  within  for  satisfaction,  he  began  to 
think  of  having  recourse  to  the  praises  of  those 
who  came  to  visit  his  improvement. 

' 'In  consequence  of  this  hope,  which  now 
took  possession  of  his  mind,  the  gardens  were 
opened  to  the  visits  of  every  stranger  ;  and  the 
country  flocked  round  to  walk,  to  criticise,  to 
admire,  and  to  do  mischief.  He  soon  found 
that  the  admirers  of  his  taste  left  by  no  means 
such  strong  marks  of  their  applause  as  the 
envious  did  of  their  malignity.  All  the  win- 
dows of  his  temples,  and  the  walls  of  his  re- 
treats, were  impressed  with  the  characters  of 
profaneness,  ignorance,  and  obscenity  ;  his 
hedges  were  broken,  his  statues  and  urns  de- 
faced, and  his  lawns  worn  bare.  It  was  now, 
therefore,  necessary  to  shut  up  the  gardens 


©liver  <3ott>6mftb  225 

once  more,  and  to  deprive  the  public  of  that 
happiness  which  had  before  ceased  to  be  his 
own. 

"In  this  situation  the  poet  continued  for  a 
time  in  the  character  of  a  jealous  lover,  fond  of 
the  beauty  he  keeps,  but  unable  to  supply  the 
extravagance  of  every  demand.  The  garden  by 
this  time  was  completely  grown  and  finished  ; 
the  marks  of  art  were  covered  up  by  the  luxuri- 
ance of  nature  ;  the  winding  walks  were  worn 
dark ;  the  brook  assumed  a  natural  sylvage  ; 
and  the  rocks  were  covered  with  moss.  Noth- 
ing now  remained  but  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of 
the  place,  when  the  poor  poet  died,  and  his  gar- 
den was  obliged  to  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  had  contributed  to  its  embellishment. 

"  The  beauties  of  the  place  had  now  for  some 
time  been  celebrated  as  well  in  prose  as  in  verse ; 
and  all  men  of  taste  wished  for  so  envied  a  spot, 
where  every  urn  was  marked  with  the  poet's 
pencil,  and  every  walk  awakened  genius  and 
meditation.  The  first  purchaser  was  one  Mr. 
Truepenny,  a  button-maker,  who  was  possessed 
of  three  thousand  pounds,  and  was  willing  also 
to  be  possessed  of  taste  and  genius. 

"As  the  poet's  ideas  were  for  the  natural 

wildness  of  the  landscape,  the  button-maker's 

were  for  the  more  regular  productions  of  art. 

He  conceived,  perhaps,  that  as  it  is  a  beauty  in 

8 


226  Gbe  <3arDen 


a  button  to  be  of  a  regular  pattern,  so  the  same 
regularity  ought  to  obtain  in  a  landscape.  Be 
this  as  it  will,  he  employed  the  shears  to  some 
purpose ;  he  clipped  up  the  hedges,  cut  down 
the  gloomy  walks,  made  vistas  upon  the  stables 
and  hog-sties,  and  showed  his  friends  that  a 
man  of  taste  should  always  be  doing. 

"  The  next  candidate  for  taste  and  genius  was 
a  captain  of  a  ship,  who  bought  the  garden  be- 
cause the  former  possessor  could  find  nothing 
more  to  mend  ;  but,  unfortunately,  he  had  taste 
too.  His  great  passion  lay  in  building,  in  mak- 
ing Chinese  temples,  and  cage-work  summer- 
houses.  As  the  place  before  had  an  appearance 
of  retirement  and  inspired  meditation,  he  gave 
it  a  more  peopled  air  ;  every  turning  presented 
a  cottage,  or  ice-house,  or  a  temple ;  the  im- 
provement was  converted  into  a  little  city,  and 
it  only  wanted  inhabitants  to  give  it  the  air  of  a 
village  in  the  Bast  Indies. 

"In  this  manner,  in  less  than  ten  years,  the 
improvement  has  gone  through  the  hands  of  as 
many  proprietors,  who  were  all  willing  to  have 
taste,  and  to  show  their  taste  too.  As  the  place 
had  received  its  best  finishing  from  the  hand  of 
the  first  possessor,  so  every  innovator  only  lent 
a  hand  to  do  mischief.  Those  parts  which  were 
obscure  have  been  enlightened ;  those  walks 
which  led  naturally,  have  been  twisted  into 


©liver  (BolDsmftb 


serpentine  windings.  The  color  of  the  flowers 
of  the  field  is  not  more  various  than  the  variety 
of  tastes  that  have  been  employed  here,  and  all 
in  direct  contradiction  to  the  original  aim  of  the 
first  improver.  Could  the  original  possessor  but 
revive,  with  what  a  sorrowful  heart  would  he 
look  upon  his  favorite  spot  again  !  He  would 
scarcely  recollect  a  Dryad  or  a  Wood-nymph  of 
his  former  acquaintance,  and  might  perhaps 
find  himself  as  much  a  stranger  in  his  own 
plantation  as  in  the  deserts  of  Siberia.  " 


HORACE  WALPOLE. 

A  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH    OF  WII/EJAM  KKN*T. 

UNDER  the  auspices  of  Lord  Burlington  and 
Lord  Pembroke,  architecture,  as  I  have 
said,  recovered  its  genuine  lustre.  The  former, 
the  Apollo  of  arts,  found  a  proper  priest  in  the 
person  of  Mr.  Kent.  As  I  mean  no  panegyric 
on  any  man,  beyond  what  he  deserved,  or  what 
to  the  best  of  my  possibly  erroneous  judgment 
I  think  he  deserved,  I  shall  speak  with  equal 
impartiality  on  the  merits  and  faults  of  Kent, 
the  former  of  which  exceedingly  preponderated. 
He  was  a  painter,  an  architect,  and  the  father 
of  modern  gardening.  In  the  first  character, 
he  was  below  mediocrity ;  in  the  second,  he  was 
a  restorer  of  the  science  ;  in  the  last,  an  original, 
and  the  inventor  of  an  art  that  realizes  painting 
and  improves  nature.  Mahomet  imagined  an 
Elysium,  but  Kent  created  many. 


f>orace  tKHatpole  229 


He  was  born  in  Yorkshire  and  put  apprentice 
to  a  coach-painter,  but  feeling  the  emotions  of 
genius,  he  left  his  master  without  leave,  and 
repaired  to  London,  where  he  studied  a  little, 
and  gave  indications  enough  of  abilities  to  excite 
a  generous  patronage  in  some  gentlemen  of  his 
own  county,  who  raised  a  contribution  sufficient 
to  send  him  to  Rome,  whither  he  accompanied 
Mr.  Talman  in  1710.  In  that  capital  of  the  arts 
he  studied  under  Cavalier  Luti,  and  in  the 
Academy  gained  the  second  prize  of  the 
second  class  ;  still  without  suspecting  that 
there  was  a  sister  art  within  his  reach, 
more  congenial  to  his  talents.  Though  his  first 
resources  were  exhausted,  he  still  found  friends. 
Another  of  his  countrymen,  Sir  John  Went- 
worth,  allowed  him  ^40  a  year  for  seven  years. 
But  it  was  at  Rome  that  his  better  star  brought 
him  acquainted  with  Lord  Burlington,  whose 
sagacity  discovered  the  rich  vein  of  genius  that 
had  been  hid  from  the  artist  himself.  On  their 
return  to  England  in  1719,  Lord  Burlington 
gave  him  an  apartment  in  his  own  house,  and 
added  all  the  graces  of  favor  and  recommenda- 
tion. By  that  noble  person's  interest  Kent  was 
employed  in  various  works,  both  as  a  painter 
of  history  and  portrait  ;  and  yet  it  must  be  al- 
lowed that  in  each  branch  partiality  must  have 
operated  strongly  to  make  his  lordship  believe 


230  Sbe  (Sarfcett 


he  discovered  any  merit  in  his  friend.  His  por- 
traits bore  little  resemblance  to  the  persons  that 
sat  for  them,  and  the  coloring  was  worse,  more 
raw  and  undetermined  than  that  of  the  most 
errant  journeymen  to  the  profession.  The 
whole  lengths  at  Esher  are  standing  evidences 
of  this  assertion.  In  his  ceilings,  Kent's  draw- 
ing was  as  defective  as  the  coloring  of  his 
portraits,  and  as  void  of  every  merit.  I  have 
mentioned  Hogarth's  parody,  if  I  may  call  it  so, 
of  his  picture  at  St.  Clement's.  The  hall  at 
Wanstead  is  another  proof  of  his  incapacity. 
Sir  Robert  Walpole,  who  was  persuaded  to  em- 
ploy him  at  Houghton,  where  he  painted  several 
ceilings  and  the  staircase,  would  not  permit 
him,  however,  to  work  in  colors,  which  would 
have  been  still  more  disgraced  by  the  presence 
of  so  many  capital  pictures,  but  restrained  him 
to  chiaro-scuro.  If  his  faults  are  thence  not  so 
glaring,  they  are  scarce  less  numerous.  He 
painted  a  staircase  in  the  same  way  for  Lord 
Townshend  at  Rainham. 

To  compensate  for  his  bad  paintings,  he  had 
an  excellent  taste  for  ornaments,  and  gave  de- 
signs for  most  of  the  furniture  at  Houghton,  as 
he  did  for  several  other  persons.  Yet  chaste  as 
these  ornaments  were,  they  were  often  unmeas- 
urably  ponderous.  His  chimney-pieces,  though 
lighter  than  those  of  Inigo,  whom  he  imitated, 


Iboracc  TKIlalpole  231 

are  frequently  heavy ;  and  his  constant  intro- 
duction of  pediments  and  the  members  of  archi- 
tecture over  doors  and  within  rooms,  was 
disproportioned  and  cumbrous.  Indeed,  I 
much  question  whether  the  Romans  admitted 
regular  architecture  within  their  houses.  At 
least  the  discoveries  at  Herculaneum  testify 
that  a  light  and  fantastic  architecture,  of  a  very 
Indian  air,  made  a  common  decoration  of  private 
apartments.  Kent's  style,  however,  predomi- 
nated authoritatively  during  his  life  ;  and  his 
oracle  was  so  much  consulted  by  all  who  affected 
taste,  that  nothing  was  thought  complete  with- 
out his  assistance.  He  was  not  only  consulted 
for  furniture,  as  frames  of  pictures,  glasses, 
tables,  chairs,  etc.,  but  for  plate,  for  a  barge, 
for  a  cradle.  And  so  impetuous  was  fashion, 
that  two  great  ladies  prevailed  on  him  to  make 
designs  for  their  birthday  gowns.  The  one  he 
dressed  in  a  petticoat  decorated  with  columns 
of  the  five  orders  ;  the  other  like  a  bronze,  in  a 
copper-colored  satin,  with  ornaments  of  gold. 
He  was  not  more  happy  in  other  works  in 
which  he  misapplied  his  genius.  The  gilt  rails 
to  the  hermitage  at  Richmond  were  in  truth 
but  a  trifling  impropriety ;  but  his  celebrated 
monument  of  Shakespeare  in  the  abbey  was 
preposterous.  What  an  absurdity  to  place  busts 
at  the  angles  of  a  pedestal,  and  at  the  bottom 


232  ftbe  Garden 


of  that  pedestal !  Whose  choice  the  busts  were 
I  do  not  know  ;  but  though  Queen  Elizabeth's 
head  might  be  intended  to  mark  the  era  in 
which  the  poet  flourished,  why  were  Richard 
II.  and  Henry  V.  selected?  Are  the  pieces 
under  the  names  of  those  princes  two  of 
Shakespeare's  most  capital  works?  or  what 
reason  can  be  assigned  for  giving  them  the 
preference  ? 

As  Kent's  genius  was  not  universal,  he  has 
succeeded  as  ill  in  Gothic.  The  King's  Bench 
at  Westminster  and  Mr.  Pelham's  house  at 
Bsher  are  proofs  how  little  he  conceived  either 
the  principles  or  graces  of  that  architecture. 
Yet  he  was  sometimes  sensible  of  its  beauties, 
and  published*  a  print  of  Wolsey's  noble  hall  at 
Hampton  Court,  now  crowded  and  half-hidden 
by  a  theatre.  Kent  gave  the  design  for  the 
ornaments  of  the  chapel  at  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  wedding,  of  which  he  also  made  a 
print.* 

Such  of  the  drawings  as  he  designed  for  Gay's 
' '  Fables  "  have  some  truth  and  nature ;  but  who- 
ever would  search  for  his  faults,  will  find  an  ample 
crop  in  a  very  favorite  work  of  his,  the  prints 
for  Spenser's  "  Fairy  Queen."  As  the  drawings 
were  exceedingly  cried  up  by  his  admirers,  and 

*  His  vignettes  to  the  large  edition  of  Pope's  works  are 
in  good  taste. 


Iborace  tKttalpoIe  233 

disappointed  the  public  in  proportion,  the 
blame  was  thrown  on  the  engraver ;  but  so 
far  unjustly,  that,  though  ill-executed,  the 
wretchedness  of  drawing,  the  total  ignorance 
of  perspective,  the  want  of  variety,  the  dispro- 
portion of  the  buildings,  the  awkwardness  of 
the  attitudes,  could  have  been  the  faults  of  the 
inventor  only.  There  are  figures  issuing  from 
cottages  not  so  high  as  their  shoulders,  castles 
in  which  the  towers  could  not  contain  an  infant, 
and  knights  who  hold  their  spears  as  men  do 
who  are  lifting  a  load  sideways.  The  landscapes 
are  the  only  tolerable  parts,  and  yet  the  trees 
are  seldom  other  than  young  beeches,  to  which 
Kent,  as  a  planter,  was  accustomed. 

But  in  architecture  his  taste  was  deservedly 
admired ;  and  without  enumerating  particulars, 
the  staircase  at  Lady  Isabella  Finch's,  in  Berke- 
ley Square,  is  as  beautiful  a  piece  of  scenery, 
and,  considering  the  space,  of  art,  as  can  be 
imagined.  The  Temple  of  Venus  at  Stowe  has 
simplicity  and  merit,  and  the  great  room  at  Mr. 
Pelham's,  in  Arlington  Street,  is  as  remarkable 
for  magnificence.  I  do  not  admire  equally  the 
room  ornamented  with  marble  and  gilding  at 
Kensington.  The  staircase  there  is  the  least 
defective  work  of  his  pencil,  and  his  ceilings  in 
that  palace  from  antique  paintings,  which  he 
first  happily  introduced,  show  that  he  was  not 


234  Gbe  Garden 


too  ridiculously  prejudiced  in  favor  of  his  own 
historic  compositions. 

Of  all  his  works,  his  favorite  production  was 
the  Karl  of  Leicester's  house,  at  Holkam,  in 
Norfolk.  The  great  hall,  with  the  flight  of 
steps  at  the  upper  end,  in  which  he  proposed 
to  place  a  colossal  Jupiter,  was  a  noble  idea. 
How  the  designs  of  that  house,  which  I  have 
seen  a  hundred  times  in  Kent's  original  draw- 
ings, came  to  be  published  under  another  name, 
and  without  the  slightest  mention  of  the  real 
architect,  is  beyond  comprehension.  The  bridge, 
the  temple,  the  great  gateway,  all  built,  I  be- 
lieve, the  two  first  certainly,  under  Kent's  own 
eye,  are  alike  passed  off  as  the  works  of  another  ; 
and  yet  no  man  need  envy  or  deny  him  the 
glory  of  having  oppressed  a  triumphal  arch  with 
an  Egyptian  pyramid.  Holkam  has  its  faults, 
but  they  are  Kent's  faults,  and  marked  with  all 
the  peculiarities  of  his  style. 

As  I  intend  to  consider  him  as  the  inventor 
of  modern  gardening  in  a  chapter  by  itself,  I 
will  conclude  this  account  of  him  with  the  few 
remaining  circumstances  of  his  life.  By  the 
patronage  of  the  queen,  of  the  Dukes  of  Graf- 
ton  and  Newcastle,  and  Mr.  Pelham,  and  by  the 
interest  of  his  constant  friend,  he  was  made 
master  carpenter,  architect,  keeper  of  the  pic- 
tures, and,  after  the  death  of  Jervas,  principal 


Iborace  TWlalpote  235 

painter  to  the  crown  ;  the  whole,  including  a 
pension  of  £100  a  year,  which  was  given  him 
for  his  works  at  Kensington,  producing  £600  a 
year.  In  1743  he  had  a  disorder  in  his  eyes 
that  was  thought  paralytic,  but  recovered. 
But  in  March,  1748,  he  had  an  inflammation 
both  in  his  bowels  and  foot,  which  turned  to  a 
general  mortification,  and  put  an  end  to  his  life 
at  Burlington  House,  April  12,  1748,  in  the 
sixty-fourth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  in 
a  very  handsome  manner  in  Lord  Burlington's 
vault  at  Chiswick.  His  fortune,  which,  with 
pictures  and  books,  amounted  to  about  ten 
thousand  pounds,  he  divided  between  his  rela- 
tions and  an  actress  with  whom  he  had  long 
lived  in  particular  friendship. 


HORACE 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  MODERN  TASTE  IN  GAR- 
DENING.* 


ARDENING  was  probably  one  of  the  first 
arts  that  succeeded  to  that  of  building 
houses,  and  naturally  attended  property  and  in- 
dividual possession.  Culinary  and  afterwards 
medicinal  herbs  were  the  objects  of  every  head 
of  a  family  ;  it  became  convenient  to  have  them 
within  reach,  without  seeking  them  at  random 
in  woods,  in  meadows,  and  on  mountains,  as 
often  as  they  were  wanted.  When  the  earth 
ceased  to  furnish  spontaneously  all  these  primi- 
tive luxuries,  and  culture  became  requisite,  sepa- 
rate enclosures  for  rearing  herbs  grew  expedient. 
Fruits  were  in  the  same  predicament,  and  those 
most  in  use  or  that  demand  attention,  must  have 

*  Printed  at  Strawberry  Hill,  1771.  Translated  into 
French  by  the  Duke  de  Nivernois,  and  printed  at  Straw- 
berry Hill,  1785. 


Iborace  Walpole  237 

entered  into  and  extended  the  domestic  en- 
closure. The  good  man  Noah,  we  are  told, 
planted  a  vineyard,  drank  of  the  wine,  and  was 
drunken,  and  everybody  knows  the  conse- 
quences. Thus  we  acquired  kitchen-gardens, 
orchards,  and  vineyards.  I  am  apprised  that 
the  prototype  of  all  these  sorts  was  the  garden 
of  Eden,  but  as  that  paradise  was  a  good  deal 
larger  than  any  we  read  of  afterwards,  being 
enclosed  by  the  rivers  Pison,  Gihon,  Hiddekel, 
and  Euphrates,  as  every  tree  that  was  pleasant 
to  the  sight  and  good  for  food  grew  in  it,  and 
as  two  other  trees  were  likewise  found  there, 
of  which  not  a  slip  or  sucker  remains,  it  does 
not  belong  to  the  present  discussion.  After  the 
fall  no  man  living  was  suffered  to  enter  into  the 
garden  ;  and  the  poverty  and  necessities  of  our 
first  ancestors  hardly  allowed  them  time  to  make 
improvements  on  their  estates  in  imitation  of 
it,  supposing  any  plan  had  been  preserved. 
A  cottage  and  a  slip  of  ground  for  a  cabbage 
and  a  gooseberry-bush,  such  as  we  see  by  the 
side  of  a  common,  were  in  all  probability  the 
earliest  seats  and  gardens  :  a  well  and  bucket 
succeeded  to  the  Pison  and  Euphrates.  As 
settlements  increased,  the  orchard  and  the 
vineyard  followed ;  and  the  earliest  princes 
of  tribes  possessed  just  the  necessaries  of  a 
modern  farmer. 


238  Gbe  <3ar&en 


Matters,  we  may  well  believe,  remained  long 
in  this  situation  ;  and  though  the  generality  of 
mankind  form  their  ideas  from  the  import  of 
words  in  their  own  age,  we  have  no  reason  to 
think  that  for  many  centuries  the  term  garden 
implied  more  than  a  kitchen-garden  or  orchard. 
When  a  Frenchman  reads  of  the  garden  of 
Eden,  I  do  not  doubt  but  that  he  concludes  it 
was  something  approaching  to  that  of  Ver- 
sailles, with  clipt  hedges,  berceaus,  and  trellis- 
work.  If  his  devotion  humbles  him  so  far  as 
to  allow  that,  considering  who  designed  it,  there 
might  be  a  labyrinth  full  of  ^sop's  fables,  yet 
he  does  not  conceive  that  four  of  the  largest 
rivers  in  the  world  were  half  so  magnificent  as 
a  hundred  fountains  full  of  statues  by  Giradon. 
It  is  thus  that  the  word  garden  has  at  all  times 
passed  for  whatever  was  understood  by  that 
term  in  different  countries.  But  that  it  meant 
no  more  than  a  kitchen-garden  or  orchard  for 
several  centuries,  is  evident  from  those  few  de- 
scriptions that  are  preserved  of  the  most  famous 
gardens  of  antiquity. 

That  of  Alcinous,  in  the  Odyssey,  is  the  most 
renowned  in  the  heroic  times.  Is  there  an  ad- 
mirer of  Homer  who  can  read  his  description 
without  rapture ;  or  who  does  not  form  to  his 
imagination  a  scene  of  delights  more  picturesque 
than  the  landscapes  of  Tinian  or  Juan  Fernandez  ? 


Iborace  TDdalpole  239 

Yet  what  was  that  boasted  paradise  with  which 

"  the  gods  ordain 'd 
To  grace  Alcinous  and  his  happy  land"  ?— POPE. 

Why,  divested  of  harmonious  Greek  and  be- 
witching poetry,  it  was  a  small  orchard  and 
vineyard,  with  some  beds  of  herbs  and  two 
fountains  that  watered  them,  enclosed  within  a 
quickset  hedge.  The  whole  compass  of  this 
pompous  garden  enclosed — four  acres. 

"  Four  acres  was  th'  allotted  space  of  ground, 
Fenc'd  with  a  green  inclosure  all  around." 

The  trees  were  apples,   figs,  pomegranates, 
pears,  olives,  and  vines. 

"  Tall  thriving  trees  confess'd  the  fruitful  mould ; 
The  redd'ning  apple  ripens  into  gold. 
Here  the  blue  fig  with  luscious  juice  o'erflows ; 
With  deeper  red  the  full  pomegranate  glows. 
The  branch  here  bends  beneath  the  weighty  pear, 
And  verdant  olives  flourish  round  the  year. 


Beds  of  all  various  herbs,  for  ever  green, 
In  beauteous  order  terminate  the  scene." 

Alcinous'  garden  was  planted  by  the  poet,  en- 
riched by  him  with  the  fairy  gift  of  eternal 
summer,  and,  no  doubt,  an  effort  of  imagina- 
tion surpassing  any  thing  he  had  ever  seen.  As 
he  has  bestowed  on  the  same  happy  prince  a 
palace  with  brazen  walls  and  columns  of  silver, 


240  Gbe  (Sarfcen 


he  certainly  intended  that  the  garden  should 
be  proportionately  magnificent.  We  are  sure, 
therefore,  that  as  late  as  Homer's  age,  an  en- 
closure of  four  acres,  comprehending  orchard, 
vineyard,  and  kitchen-garden,  was  a  stretch  of 
luxury  the  world  at  that  time  had  never  beheld. 

The  hanging  gardens  of  Babylon  were  a  still 
greater  prodigy.  We  are  not  acquainted  with 
their  disposition  or  contents,  but  as  they  are 
supposed  to  have  been  formed  on  terraces  and 
walls  of  the  palace,  whither  soil  was  conveyed 
on  purpose,  we  are  very  certain  of  what  they 
were  not ;  I  mean,  they  must  have  been  trifling, 
of  no  extent,  and  a  wanton  instance  of  expense 
and  labor.  In  other  words,  they  were  what 
sumptuous  gardens  have  been  in  all  ages  till 
the  present — unnatural,  enriched  by  art,  possi- 
bly with  fountains,  statues,  balustrades,  and 
summer-houses,  and  were  any  thing  but  ver- 
dant and  rural. 

From  the  days  of  Homer  to  those  of  Pliny,  we 
have  no  traces  to  lead  our  guess  to  what  were 
the  gardens  of  the  intervening  ages.  When  Ro- 
man authors,  whose  climate  instilled  a  wish  for 
cool  retreats,  speak  of  their  enjoyments  in  that 
kind,  they  sigh  for  grottos,  caves,  and  the  re- 
freshing hollows  of  mountains,  near  irriguous 
and  shaded  founts  ;  or  boast  of  their  porticos, 
walks  of  planes,  canals,  baths,  and  breezes  from 


Iborace  Walpole  241 

the  sea.  Their  gardens  are  never  mentioned  as 
affording  shade  and  shelter  from  the  rage  of  the 
dog-star.  Pliny  has  left  us  descriptions  of  two 
of  his  villas.  As  he  used  his  Laurentine  villa 
for  his  winter  retreat,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
the  garden  makes  no  considerable  part  of  the 
account.  All  he  says  of  it  is,  that  the  gestatio 
or  place  of  exercise,  which  surrounded  the  gar- 
den (the  latter  consequently  not  being  very 
large),  was  bounded  by  a  hedge  of  box,  and 
where  that  was  perished,  with  rosemary  ;  that 
there  was  a  walk  of  vines,  and  that  most  of  the 
trees  were  fig  and  mulberry,  the  soil  not  being 
proper  for  any  other  sorts. 

On  his  Tuscan  villa  he  is  more  diffuse ;  the 
garden  makes  a  considerable  part  of  the  descrip- 
tion— and  what  was  the  principal  beauty  of  that 
pleasure-ground  ?  Exactly  what  was  the  admi- 
ration of  this  country  about  threescore  years 
ago — box-trees  cut  into  monsters,  animals,  let- 
ters, and  the  names  of  the  master  and  the  artifi- 
cer. In  an  age  when  architecture  displayed 
all  its  grandeur,  all  its  purity,  and  all  its  taste  ; 
when  arose  Vespasian's  amphitheatre,  the  Tem- 
ple of  Peace,  Trajan's  forum,  Domitian's  baths, 
and  Adrian's  villa,  the  ruins  and  vestiges  of 
which  still  excite  our  astonishment  and  curi- 
osity, a  Roman  consul,  a  polished  emperor's 
friend,  and  a  man  of  elegant  literature  and  taste 


242  ftbe  <3arDen 


delighted  in  what  the  mob  now  scarce  admire  in 
a  college-garden.  All  the  ingredients  of  Pliny's 
correspond  exactly  with  those  laid  out  by  I,on- 
don  and  Wise  on  Dutch  principles.  He  talks 
of  slopes,  terraces,  a  wilderness,  shrubs  method- 
ically trimmed,  a  marble  basin,*  pipes  spouting 
water,  a  cascade  falling  into  the  basin,  bay- 
trees,  alternately  planted  with  planes,  and  a 
straight  walk,  from  whence  issued  others  part- 
ed oif  by  hedges  of  box,  and  apple-trees,  with 
obelisks  placed  between  every  two.  There  wants 
nothing  but  the  embroidery  of  a  parterre,  to 
make  a  garden  in  the  reign  of  Trajan  serve  for 
a  description  of  one  in  that  of  King  William,  j 
In  one  passage  above  Pliny  seems  to  have  con- 

*  The  English  gardens  described  by  Hentzner  in  the. 
reign  of  Elizabeth  are  exact  copies  of  those  of  Pliny.  In 
that  at  Whitehall  was  a  sun-dial  andjet-d'eau,  which,  on 
turning  a  cock,  spurted  put  water  and  sprinkled  the 
spectators.  In  I,ord  Burleigh's,  at  Theobald's,  were  obe- 
lisks, pyramids,  and  circular  porticos,  with  cisterns  of 
lead  for  bathing.  At  Hampton  Court  the  garden  walls 
were  covered  with  rosemary,  a  custom,  he  says,  very 
common  in  England.  At  Theobald's  was  a  labyrinth 
also,  an  ingenuity  I  shall  mention  presently  to  have 
been  frequent  in  that  age. 

f  Dr.  Plot,  in  his  "  Natural  History  of  Oxfordshire,"  p. 
380,  seems  to  have  been  a  great  admirer  of  trees  carved 
into  the  most  heterogeneous  forms,  which  he  calls  topiary 
works,  and  quotes  one  I^aurembergius  for  saying  that  the 
English  are  as  expert  as  most  nations  in  that  kind  of 
sculpture  ;  for  which  Hampton  Court  was  particularly 
remarkable.  The  doctor  then  names  other  gardens  that 
flourished  with  animals  and  castles,  formed  artetopiaria, 
and  above  all  a  wren's  nest  that  was  capacious  enough 
to  receive  a  man  to  sit  on  a  seat  made  within  for  that 
purpose. 


Iborace  Walpole  243 

ceived  that  natural  irregularity  might  be  a 
beauty:  in  opere  urbanisshno,  says  he,  subita 
velut  illati  ruris  imitatio.  Something  like  a 
rural  view  was  contrived  amidst  so  much  pol- 
ished composition.  But  the  idea  soon  vanished, 
lineal  walks  immediately  enveloped  the  slight 
scene,  and  names  and  inscriptions  in  box  again 
succeeded  to  compensate  for  the  daring  introduc- 
tion of  nature. 

In  the  paintings  found  at  Herculaneum  are  a 
few  traces  of  gardens,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
second  volume  of  the  prints.  They  are  small 
square  enclosures  formed  by  trellis-work  and 
espaliers,*  and  regularly  ornamented  with  vases, 
fountains,  and  careatides,  elegantly  symmetri- 
cal, and  proper  for  the  narrow  spaces  allotted 
to  the  garden  of  a  house  in  a  capital  city.  From 
such  I  would  not  banish  those  playful  waters 
that  refresh  a  sultry  mansion  in  town,  nor  the 
neat  trellis,  which  preserves  its  wooden  verdure 
better  than  the  natural  greens  exposed  to  dust. 
Those  treillages  in  the  gardens  at  Paris,  partic- 
ularly on  the  Boulevard,  have  a  gay  and  de- 
lightful effect.  They  form  light  corridors,  and 
transpicuous  arbors,  through  which  the  sun- 
beams play  and  checker  the  shade,  set  off  the 
statues,  vases,  and  flowers,  that  marry  with  their 

*  At  Warwick  Castle  is  an  ancient  suit  of  arras,  in 
which  there  is  a  garden  exactly  resembling  these  pig- 
tures  of  Herculaneum. 


244  Gbe  (Barren 


gaudy  hotels,  and  suit  the  gallant  and  idle 
society  who  paint  the  walks  between  their 
parterres,  and  realize  the  fantastic  scenes  of 
Watteau  and  Durfe. 

From  what  I  have  said,  it  appears  how  natu- 
rally and  insensibly  the  idea  of  a  kitchen-garden 
slid  into  that  which  has  for  so  many  ages  been 
peculiarly  termed  a  garden,  and  by  our  ances- 
tors in  this  country  distinguished  by  the  name 
of  a  pleasure-garden.  A  square  piece  of  ground 
was  originally  parted  off  in  early  ages  for  the 
use  of  the  family ;  to  exclude  cattle  and  ascer- 
tain the  property  it  was  separated  from  the 
fields  by  a  hedge.  As  pride  and  desire  of  pri- 
vacy increased,  the  enclosure  was  dignified  by 
walls  ;  and  in  climes  where  fruits  were  not  lav- 
ished by  the  ripening  glow  of  nature  and  soil, 
fruit-trees  were  assisted  and  sheltered  from  sur- 
rounding winds  by  like  expedients  ;  for  the  in- 
undations of  luxuries  which  have  swelled  into 
general  necessities  have  almost  all  taken  their 
source  from  the  simple  fountain  of  reason. 

When  the  custom  of  making  square  gardens 
enclosed  with  walls  was  thus  established,  to  the 
exclusion  of  nature  and  prospect,*  pomp  and 

*  It  was  not  uncommon,  after  the  circumjacent  coun- 
try had  been  shut  out,  to  endeavor  to  recover  it  by  raising 
large  mounds  of  earth  to  peep  over  the  walls  pf  the 
garden, 


Ibotace  tKftalpole  245 

solitude  combined  to  call  for  something  that 
might  enrich  and  enliven  the  insipid  and  tin- 
animated  partition.  Fountains,  first  invented 
for  use,  which  grandeur  loves  to  disguise  and 
throw  out  of  the  question,  received  embellish- 
ments from  costly  marbles,  and  at  last,  to  con- 
tradict utility,  tossed  their  waste  of  waters  into 
air  in  spouting  columns.  Art,  in  the  hands 
of  rude  man,  had  at  first  been  made  a  suc- 
cedaneum  to  nature  ;  in  the  hands  of  ostenta- 
tious wealth,  it  became  the  means  of  opposing 
nature  ;  and  the  more  it  traversed  the  march  of 
the  latter,  the  more  nobility  thought  its  power 
was  demonstrated.  Canals  measured  by  the 
line  were  introduced  in  lieu  of  meandering 
streams,  and  terraces  were  hoisted  aloft  in 
opposition  to  the  facile  slopes  that  impercepti- 
bly unite  the  valley  to  the  hill.  Balustrades 
defended  these  precipitate  and  dangerous  eleva- 
tions, and  flights  of  steps  rejoined  them  to  the 
subjacent  flat  from  which  the  terrace  had  been 
dug.  Vases  and  sculpture  were  added  to  these 
unnecessary  balconies,  and  statues  furnished 
the  lifeless  spot  with  mimic  representations  of 
the  excluded  sons  of  men.  Thus,  difficulty  and 
expense  were  the  constituent  parts  of  those 
sumptuous  and  selfish  solitudes  ;  and  every  im- 
provement that  was  made  was  but  a  step  farther 
from  nature.  The  tricks  of  water-works  to  wet 


246  ttbe  (Barfcett 


the  unwary,  not  to  refresh  the  panting  specta- 
tor, and  parterres  embroidered  in  patterns  like 
a  petticoat,  were  but  the  childish  endeavors  of 
fashion  and  novelty  to  reconcile  greatness  to 
what  it  had  surfeited  on.  To  crown  these  im- 
potent displays  of  false  taste,  the  shears  were 
applied  to  the  lovely  wildness  of  form  with 
which  nature  has  distinguished  each  various 
species  of  tree  and  shrub.  The  venerable  oak, 
the  romantic  beech,  the  useful  elm,  even  the 
aspiring  circuit  of  the  lime,  the  regular  round 
of  the  chestnut,  and  the  almost  moulded  orange- 
tree,  were  corrected  by  such  fantastic  admirers 
of  symmetry.  The  compass  and  square  were 
of  more  use  in  plantations  than  the  nursery- 
man. The  measured  walk,  the  quincunx,  and 
the  e*toile  imposed  their  unsatisfying  sameness 
on  every  royal  and  noble  garden.  Trees  were 
headed,  and  their  sides  pared  away ;  many 
French  groves  seem  green  chests  set  upon 
poles.  Seats  of  marble,  arbors,  and  summer- 
houses  terminated  every  vista  ;  and  symmetry, 
even  where  the  space  was  too  large  to  permit  its 
being  remarked  at  one  view,  was  so  essential, 
that,  as  Pope  observed  : 

"  Each  alley  has  a  brother, 
And  half  the  garden  just  reflects  the  other." 

Knots  of  flowers  were  more  defensibly  subjected 


fborace  TDQalpole  247 

to  the  same  regularity.  Leisure,  as  Milton  ex- 
pressed it, 

"  In  trim  gardens  took  his  pleasure." 

In  the  garden  of  Marshal  de  Biron,  at  Paris, 
consisting  of  fourteen  acres,  every  walk  is  but- 
toned on  each  side  by  lines  of  flower-pots, 
which  succeed  in  their  seasons.  When  I  saw 
it,  there  were  nine  thousand  pots  of  asters,  or 
la  Reine  Marguerite. 

We  do  not  precisely  know  what  our  ancestors 
meant  by  a  bower,  it  was  probably  an  arbor  ; 
sometimes  it  meant  the  whole  frittered  enclos- 
ure, and  in  one  instance  it  certainly  included  a 
labyrinth.  Rosamond's  bower  was  indisputably 
of  that  kind,  though,  whether  composed  of  walls 
or  hedges,  we  cannot  determine.  A  square  and 
a  round  labyrinth  were  so  capital  ingredients  of 
a  garden  formerly,  that  in  Du  Cerceau's  archi- 
tecture, who  lived  in  the  time  of  Charles  IX. 
and  Henry  III.,  there  is  scarce  a  ground-plot 
without  one  of  each.  The  enchantment  of  an- 
tique appellations  has  consecrated  a  pleasing 
idea  of  a  royal  residence,  of  which  we  now 
regret  the  extinction.  Havering  in  the  Bower, 
the  jointure  of  many  dowager  queens,  conveys 
to  us  the  notion  of  a  romantic  scene. 

In  Kip's  views  of  the  seats  of  our  nobility 
and  gentry,  we  see  the  same  tiresome  and 


248  tlbe  (Barren 


returning  uniformity.  Kvery  house  is  ap- 
proached by  two  or  three  gardens,  consisting 
perhaps  of  a  gravel- walk  and  two  grass- plats, 
or  borders  of  flowers.  Bach  rises  above  the 
other  by  two  or  three  steps,  and  as  many  walls 
and  terraces  ;  and  so  many  iron  gates,  that  we 
recollect  those  ancient  romances,  in  which 
every  entrance  was  guarded  by  nymphs  or 
dragons.  At  Lady  Oxford's,  at  Piddletown,  in 
Dorsetshire,  there  was,  when  my  brother  mar- 
ried, a  double  enclosure  of  thirteen  gardens, 
each,  I  suppose,  not  much  above  a  hundred 
yards  square,  with  an  enfilade  of  correspondent 
gates  ;  and  before  you  arrived  at  these,  you 
passed  a  narrow  gut  between  two  stone  ter- 
races, that  rose  above  your  head,  and  which  were 
crowned  by  a  line  of  pyramidal  yews.  A  bowl- 
ing-green was  all  the  lawn  admitted  in  those 
times ;  a  circular  lake  the  extent  of  magnificence. 
Yet,  though  these  and  such  preposterous  in- 
conveniences prevailed  from  age  to  age,  good 
sense  in  this  country  had  perceived  the  want  of 
something  at  once  more  grand  and  more  natu- 
ral. These  reflections,  and  the  bounds  se*.  to 
the  waste  made  by  royal  spoilers,  gave  origin  to 
parks.  They  were  contracted  forests  and  ex- 
tended gardens.  Hentzner  says  that,  accord- 
ing to  Rous  of  Warwick,  the  first  park  was  that 
at  Woodstock.  If  so,  it  might  be  the  founda- 


fborace  tKflalpolc  249 

tion  of  a  legend  that  Henry  II.  secured  his 
mistress  in  a  labyrinth  ;  it  was  no  doubt  more 
difficult  to  find  her  in  a  park  than  in  a  palace, 
when  the  intricacy  of  the  woods  and  various 
lodges  buried  in  covert  might  conceal  her 
actual  habitation. 

It  is  more  extraordinary  that  having  so  long 
ago  stumbled  on  the  principle  of  modern  gar- 
dening, we  should  have  persisted  in  retaining 
its  reverse,  symmetrical,  and  unnatural  gardens. 
That  parks  were  rare  in  other  countries,  Hentz- 
ner,  who  travelled  over  great  part  of  Europe, 
leads-  us  to  suppose,  by  observing  that  they 
were  common  in  England.  In  France  they  re- 
tain the  name,  but  nothing  is  more  different 
both  in  compass  and  disposition.  Their  parks 
are  usually  square  or  oblong  enclosures,  regu- 
larly planted  with  walks  of  chestnuts  or  limes, 
and  generally  every  large  town  has  one  for  its 
public  recreation.  They  are  exactly  like  Bur- 
ton's Court,  at  Chelsea  College,  and  rarely 
larger. 

One  man,  one  great  man  we  had,  on  whom 
nor  education  nor  custom  could  impose  their 
prejudices ;  who,  on  evil  days  though  fallen, 
and  with  darkness  and  solitude  compassed 
round,  judged  that  the  mistaken  and  fantastic 
ornaments  he  had  seen  in  gardens  were  un- 
worthy of  the  Almighty  hand  that  planted  the 


250  ftbe  (Barrett 


delights  of  Paradise.  He  seems,  with  the  pro- 
phetic eye  of  taste  (as  I  have  heard  taste  well 
defined),  to  have  conceived,  to  have  foreseen, 
modern  gardening ;  as  Lord  Bacon  announced 
the  discoveries  since  made  by  experimental 
philosophy.  The  description  of  Eden  is  a 
warmer  and  more  just  picture  of  the  present 
style  than  Claude  Lorraine  could  have  painted 
from  Hagley  or  Stourhead.  The  first  lines  I 
shall  quote  exhibit  Stourhead  on  a  more  mag- 
nificent scale  : 

"  Thro'  l£den  went  a  river  large, 
Nor  changed  his  course,  but  through  the  shaggy  hill 
Pass'd  underneath  ingulf 'd,  for  God  had  thrown 
That  mountain  as  his  garden-mound,  high  rais'd 
Upon  the  rapid  current." 

Hagley  seems  pictured  in  what  follows  : 

"  Which  thro'  veins 

Of  porous  earth  with  kindly  thirst  updrawn, 
Rose  a  fresh  fountain,  and  with  many  a  rill 
Water 'd  the  garden." 

What  coloring,  what  freedom  of  pencil,  what 
landscape  in  these  lines  : 

"  From  that  sapphire  fount  the  crisped  brooks, 
Rolling  on  orient  pearls  and  sands  of  gold, 
With  mazy  error  under  pendent  shades 
Ran  nectar,  visiting  each  plant,  and  fed 


Ibotace  Malpote 


Flow'rs  worthy  of  Paradise,  which  not  nice  art 
In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  nature  boon 
Pour'd  forth  profuse  on  hill  and  dale  and  plain, 
Both  where  the  morning  sun  first  warmly  smote 
The  open  field,  and  where  the  unpierced  shade 
Imbrown'd  the  moontide  bow'rs.     Thus  was  this  place 
A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  view" 

Read  this  transporting  description,  paint  to 
your  mind  the  scenes  that  follow,  contrast  them 
with  the  savage  but  respectable  terror  with 
which  the  poet  guards  the  bounds  of  his  para- 
dise, fenced 

"  with  the  champain  head 
Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairy  sides 
With  thicket  overgrown,  grotesque  and  wild, 
Access  denied  ;  and  overhead  upgrew 
Insuperable  height  of  Idftiest  shade, 
Cedar,  and  pine,  and  fir,  and  branching  palm, 
A  sylvan  scene,  and  as  the  ranks  ascend, 
Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre 
Of  stateliest  view,"  — 

and  then  recollect  that  the  author  of  this 
sublime  vision  had  never  seen  a  glimpse  of  any 
thing  like  what  he  imagined,  that  his  favorite 
ancients  had  dropped  not  a  hint  of  such  divine 
scenery,  and  that  the  conceits  in  Italian  gardens, 
and  Theobald's,  and  Nonsuch  were  the  brightest 
originals  that  his  memory  could  furnish.  His 
intellectual  eye  saw  a  nobler  plan,  so  little  did 


252  £be  (Barfcett 


he  suffer  by  the  loss  of  sight.  It  sufficed  him 
to  have  seen  the  materials  with  which  he  could 
work.  The  vigor  of  a  boundless  imagination 
told  him  how  a  plan  might  be  disposed  that 
would  embellish  nature  and  restore  art  to  its 
proper  office — the  just  improvement  or  imitation 
of  it* 

It  is  necessary  that  the  concurrent  testimony 
of  the  age  should  swear  to  posterity  that  the 
description  above  quoted  was  written  about  half 
a  century  before  the  introduction  of  modern 
gardening,  or  our  incredulous  descendants  will 
defraud  the  poet  of  half  his  glory  by  being  per- 
suaded that  he  copied  some  garden  he  had  seen, 
so  minutely  do  his  ideas  correspond  with  the 
present  standard.  But  what  shall  we  say  for 
that  intervening  half  century  which  could  read 
that  plan  and  never  attempt  to  put  it  in  execu- 
tion ? 

Now  let  us  turn  to  an  admired  writer  posterior 
to  Milton,  and  see  how  cold,  how  insipid,  how 
tasteless  is  his  account  of  what  he  pronounced 
a  perfect  garden.  I  speak  not  of  his  style, 
which  it  was  not  necessary  for  him  to  animate 
with  the  coloring  and  glow  of  poetry.  It  is  his 
want  of  ideas,  of  imagination,  of  taste,  that  I 

*  Since  the  above  was  written  I  have  found  Milton 
praised  and  Sir  William  Temple  censured,  on  the  same 
foundations,  in  a  poem  called  "  The  Rise  and  Progress  of 
the  Present  Taste  in  Planting,"  printed  in  1767. 


Iborace  TKRalpole  253 

censure  when  he  dictated  on  a  subject  that  is 
capable  of  all  the  graces  that  a  knowledge  of 
beautiful  nature  can  bestow.  Sir  William  Tem- 
ple was  an  excellent  man,  Milton  a  genius  of 
the  first  order. 

We  cannot  wonder  that  Sir  William  declares 
in  favor  of  parterres,  fountains,  and  statues,  as 
necessary  to  break  the  sameness  of  large  grass- 
plats,  which  he  thinks  have  an  ill  effect  upon 
the  eye,  when  he  acknowledges  that  he  dis- 
covers fancy  in  the  gardens  of  Alcinous.  Milton 
studied  the  ancients  with  equal  enthusiasm  but 
no  bigotry,  and  had  judgment  to  distinguish 
between  the  want  of  invention  and  the  beauties 
of  poetry.  Compare  his  paradise  with  Homer's 
garden,  both  ascribed  to  a  celestial  design.  For 
Sir  William  it  is  just  to  observe  that  his  ideas 
centred  in  a  fruit-garden.  He  had  the  honor  of 
giving  to  his  country  many  delicate  fruits,  and 
he  thought  of  little  else  than  disposing  of  them 
to  the  best  advantage.  Here  is  the  passage  I 
proposed  to  quote.  It  is  long,  but  I  need  not 
make  an  apology  to  the  reader  for  entertaining 
him  with  any  other  words  instead  of  my  own  : 

"  The  best  figure  of  a  garden  is  either  a  square 
or  an  oblong,  and  either  upon  a  flat  or  a  descent ; 
they  have  all  their  beauties,  but  the  best  I  es- 
teem an  oblong  upon  a  descent.  The  beauty, 
the  air,  the  view,  make  amends  for  the  expense, 


254  {Tbe  (Barren 

which  is  very  great  in  finishing  and  support- 
ing the  terrace- walks,  in  levelling  the  parterres, 
and  in  the  stone  stairs  that  are  necessary  from 
one  to  the  other. 

"  The  perfectest  figure  of  a  garden  I  ever  saw, 
either  at  home  or  abroad,  was  that  of  Moor 
Park  in  Hertfordshire,  when  I  knew  it  about 
thirty  years  ago.  It  was  made  by  the  Countess 
of  Bedford,  esteemed  among  the  greatest  wits 
of  her  time,  and  celebrated  by  Doctor  Donne  ; 
and  with  very  great  care,  excellent  contrivance, 
and  much  cost  ;  but  greater  sums  may  be  thrown 
away  without  effect  or  honor,  if  there  want 
sense  in  proportion  to  money,  or  \inature  be  not 
followed^  which  I  take  to  be  the  great  rule  in 
this,  and  perhaps  in  every  thing  else,  as  far  as 
the  conduct  not  only  of  our  lives,  but  our  gov- 
ernments." 

We  shall  see  how  natural  that  admired  garden 
was. 

"Because  I  take*  the  garden  I  have  named 
to  have  been  in  all  kinds  the  most  beautiful  and 
perfect,  at  least  in  the  figure  and  disposition, 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  I  will  describe  it  for  a 
model  to  those  that  meet  with  such  a  situation, 
and  are  above  the  regards  of  common  expense. 
It  lies  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  upon  which  the 

*  This  garden  seems  to  have  been  made  after  the  plan 
laid  down  by  Lord  Bacon  in  his  46th  Bssay,  to  which,  that 
I  may  not  multiply  quotations,  I  will  refer  the  reader, 


Ibotace  TKftalpole  255 

house  stands,  but  not  very  steep.  The  length 
of  the  house,  where  the  best  rooms  and  of  most 
use  or  pleasure  are,  lies  upon  the  breadth  of 
the  garden  ;  the  great  parlor  opens  into  the 
middle  of  a  terrace  gravel-walk  that  lies  even 
with  it,  and  which  may  lie,  as  I  remember, 
about  three  hundred  paces  long,  and  broad  in 
proportion  ;  the  border  set  with  standard  laurels 
and  at  large  distances,  which  have  the  beauty 
of  orange-trees  out  of  flower  and  fruit.  From 
this  walk  are  three  descents  by  many  stone 
steps,  in  the  middle  and  at  each  end,  into  a 
very  large  parterre.  This  is  divided  into  quar- 
ters by  gravel-walks,  and  adorned  with  two 
fountains  and  eight  statues  in  the  several  quar- 
ters. At  the  end  of  the  terrace-walk  are  two 
summer-houses,  and  the  sides  of  the  parterre 
are  ranged  with  two  large  cloisters  open  to 
the  garden,  upon  arches  of  stone,  and  ending 
with  two  other  summer-houses  even  with  the 
cloisters,  which  are  paved  with  stone,  and 
designed  for  walks  of  shade,  there  being  none 
other  in  the  whole  parterre.  Over  these  two 
cloisters  are  two  terraces  covered  with  lead  and 
fenced  with  balusters  :  and  the  passage  into 
these  airy  walks  is  out  of  the  two  summer- 
houses  at  the  end  of  the  first  terrace-walk.  The 
cloister  facing  the  south  is  covered  with  vines, 
have  been  proper  for  an  orange* 


256  Gbe  Garden 


house,  and  the  other  for  myrtles  or  other  more 
common  greens,  and  had,  I  doubt  not,  been 
cast  for  that  purpose,  if  this  piece  of  gardening 
had  been  then  in  as  much  vogue  as  it  is  now. 

"  From  the  middle  of  this  parterre  is  a  de- 
scent by  many  steps  flying  on  each  side  of  a 
grotto  that  lies  between  them,  covered  with 
lead  and  flat,  into  the  lower  garden,  which  is 
all  fruit-trees  ranged  about  the  several  quarters 
of  a  wilderness  which  is  very  shady.  The  walks 
here  are  all  green,  the  grotto  embellished  with 
figures  of  shell  rock- work,  fountains,  and  water- 
works. If  the  hill  had  not  ended  with  the 
lower  garden,  and  the  walls  were  not  bounded 
by  a  common  way  that  goes  through  the  park, 
they  might  have  added  a  third  quarter  of  all 
greens  ;  but  this  want  is  supplied  by  a  garden 
on  the  other  side  the  house,  which  is  all  of  that 
sort — very  wild,  shady,  and  adorned  with  rough 
rock-work  and  fountains. 

"  This  was  Moor  Park,  when  I  was  acquaint- 
ed with  it,  and  the  sweetest  place  I  think  that 
I  have  seen  in  my  life,  either  before  or  since, 
at  home  or  abroad." 

I  will  make  no  further  remarks  on  this  de- 
scription. Any  man  might  design  and  build 
as  sweet  a  garden,  who  had  been  born  in  and 
never  stirred  out  of  Holborn.  It  was  not  pe- 
culiar to  Sir  William  Temple  to  think  in  that 


Iborace  TOalpolc  257 

manner.  How  many  Frenchmen  are  there  who 
have  seen  our  gardens,  and  still  prefer  natural 
flights  of  steps  and  shady  cloisters  covered  with 
lead?  L,e  Nautre,  the  architect  of  the  groves 
and  grottos  at  Versailles,  came  hither  on  a 
mission  to  improve  our  taste.  He  planted  St. 
James'  and  Greenwich  parks — no  great  monu- 
ments of  his  invention. 

To  do  further  justice  jto  Sir  William  Temple, 
I  must  not  omit  what  he  adds  : 

"  What  I  have  said  of  the  best  forms  of  gar- 
dens is  meant  only  of  such  as  are  in  some  sort 
regular,  for  there  may  be  other  forms  wholly 
irregular,  that  may,  for  aught  I  know,  have 
more  beauty  than  any  of  the  others  ;  but  they 
must  owe  it  to  some  extraordinary  dispositions 
of  nature  in  the  seat,  or  some  great  race  of 
fancy  or  judgment  in  the  contrivance ',  which 
may  reduce  many  disagreeing  parts  into  some 
figure,  which  shall  yet,  upon  the  whole,  be 
very  agreeable.  Something  of  this  I  have  seen 
in  some  places,  but  heard  more  of  it  from 
others  who  have  lived  much  among  the  Chinese, 
a  people  whose  way  of  thinking  seems  to  lie  as 
wide  of  ours  in  Europe  as  their  country  does. 
Their  greatest  reach  of  imagination  is  employed 
in  contriving  figures,  where  the  beauty  shall  be 
great  and  strike  the  eye,  but  without  any  order 
or  disposition  of  parts  that  shall  be  commonly 


258  ITbe  <$ar&en 


or  easily  observed.  And  though  we  have  hardly 
any  notion  of  this  sort  of  beauty,  yet  they  have 
a  particular  word  to  express  it,  and  where  they 
find  it  hit  their  eye  at  first  sight,  they  say  the 
Sharawadgi  is  fine  or  is  admirable,  or  any  such 
expression  of  esteem,  but  I  should  hardly  ad- 
vise any  of  these  attempts  in  the  figure  of  gar- 
dens among  us.  They  are  adventures  of  too 
hard  achievement  for  any  common  hands,  and 
though  there  may  be  more  honor  if  they  suc- 
ceed well,  yet  there  is  more  dishonor  if  they 
fail,  and  it  is  twenty  to  one  they  will ;  whereas 
in  regular  figures  it  is  hard  to  make  any  great 
and  remarkable  faults." 

Fortunately,  Kent  and  a  few  others  were  not 
quite  so  timid,  or  we  might  still  be  going  up 
and  down  stairs  in  the  open  air. 

It  is  true  we  have  heard  much  lately,  as  Sir 
William  Temple  did,  of  irregularity  and  imita- 
tions of  nature  in  the  gardens  or  grounds  of  the 
Chinese.  The  former  is  certainly  true.  They 
are  as  whimsically  irregular  as  European  gar- 
dens are  formally  uniform  and  varied ;  but 
with  regard  to  nature  it  seems  as  much  avoided 
as  in  the  squares  and  oblongs  and  straight  lines 
of  our  ancestors.  An  artificial  perpendicular 
rock  starting  out  of  a  flat  plain  and  connected 
with  nothing,  often  pierced  through  in  various 
places  with  oval  hollows,  has  no  more  preten- 


Iborace  Walpole  259 

sion  to  be  deemed  natural  than  a  lineal  terrace 
or  a  parterre.  The  late  Mr.  Joseph  Spence, 
who  had  both  taste  and  zeal  for  the  present 
style,  was  so  persuaded  of  the  Chinese  em- 
peror's pleasure-ground  being  laid  out  on  prin- 
ciples resembling  ours,  that  he  translated  and 
published,  under  the  name  of  Sir  Harry  Beau- 
mont, a  particular  account  of  that  enclosure 
from  the  collection  of  the  letters  of  the  Jesuits. 
I  have  looked  it  over,  and  except  a  determined 
irregularity,  can  find  nothing  in  it  that  gives  me 
any  idea  of  attention  being  paid  to  nature.  It 
is  of  vast  circumference,  and  contains  two  hun- 
dred palaces,  besides  as  many  contiguous  for 
the  eunuchs,  all  gilt,  painted,  and  varnished. 
There  are  raised  hills  from  twenty  to  sixty  feet 
high,  streams  and  lakes,  and  one  of  the  latter 
five  miles  round.  These  waters  are  passed  by 
bridges,  but  even  their  bridges  must  not  be 
straight — they  serpentize  as  much  as  the  rivu- 
lets, and  are  sometimes  so  long  as  to  be  fur- 
nished with  resting-places,  and  begin  and  end 
with  triumphal  arches.  Methinks  a  straight 
canal  is  as  rational  at  least  as  a  meandering 
bridge.  The  colonnades  undulate  in  the  same 
manner.  In  short,  this  pretty  gaudy  scene  is 
the  work  of  caprice  and  whim,  and  when  we 
reflect  on  their  buildings  presents  no  image  but 
that  of  unsubstantial  tawdriness.  Nor  is  "this 


260  Gbe  <3arDen 


all.  Within  this  fantastic  paradise  is  a  square 
town,  each  side  a  mile  long.  Here  the  eunuchs 
of  the  court,  to  entertain  his  imperial  majesty 
with  the  bustle  and  business  of  the  capital  in 
which  he  resides,  but  which  it  is  not  of  his 
dignity  ever  to  see,  act  merchants  and  all  sorts 
of  trades,  and  even  designedly  exercise  for  his 
royal  amusement  every  art  of  knavery  that  is 
practised  under  his  auspicious  government. 
Methinks  this  is  the  childish  solace  and  repose 
of  grandeur,  not  a  retirement  from  affairs  to 
the  delights  of  rural  life.  Here,  too,  his  ma- 
jesty plays  at  agriculture.  There  is  a  quartet 
set  apart  for  that  purpose.  The  eunuchs  sow, 
reap,  and  carry  in  their  harvest  in  the  imperial 
presence,  and  his  majesty  returns  to  Pekin 
persuaded  that  he  has  been  in  the  country. 

Having  thus  cleared  my  way  by  ascertaining 
what  have  been  the  ideas  on  gardening  in  all 
ages  as  far  as  we  have  materials  to  judge  by, 
it  remains  to  show  to  what  degree  Mr.  Kent  in- 
vented the  new  style,  and  what  hints  he  had  re- 
ceived to  suggest  and  conduct  his  undertaking. 

We  have  seen  what  Moor  Park  was  when 
pronounced  a  standard.  But  as  no  succeeding 
generation  in  an  opulent  and  luxurious  country 
contents  itself  with  the  perfection  established 
by  its  ancestors,  more  perfect  perfection  was 
still  sought,  and  improvements  had  gone  on, 


Iborace  Walpote  261 

till  London  and  Wise  had  stocked  our  gardens 
with  giants,  animals,  monsters,*  coats-of-arms, 
and  mottoes  in  yew,  box,  and  holly.  Absurd- 
ity could  go  no  further,  and  the  tide  turned. 
Bridgman,  the  next  fashionable  designer  of  gar- 
dens, was  far  more  chaste,  and  whether  from  good 
sense,  or  that  the  nation  had  been  struck  and 
reformed  by  the  admirable  paper  in  the  Guar- 
dian, No.  173,  he  banished  verdant  sculpture, 
and  did  not  even  revert  to  the  square  precision 
of  the  foregoing  age.  He  enlarged  his  plans, 
disdained  to  make  every  division  tally  to  its 
opposite  ;  and  though  he  still  adhered  much  to 
straight  walks  with  high  clipped  hedges,  they 
were  only  his  great  lines,  the  rest  he  diversified 
by  wilderness,  and  with  loose  groves  of  oak, 
though  still  within  surrounding  hedges.  I  have 
observed  in  the  garden  f  at  Gubbins,  in  Hert- 
fordshire, many  detached  thoughts  that  strong- 
ly indicate  the  dawn  of  modern  taste.  As  his 
reformation  gained  footing  he  ventured  further, 
and  in  the  royal  garden  at  Richmond  dared  to 

*  On  the  piers  of  a  garden  gate,  not  far  from  Paris,  I 
observed  two  very  coquet  sphinxes.  These  lady  mon- 
sters had  straw  hats,  gracefully  smart  on  one  side  of 
their  heads,  and  silken  cloaks  half  veiling  their  necks- 
all  executed  in  stone. 

f  The  seat  of  the  late  Sir  Jeremy  Sambroke.  It  had 
formerly  belonged  to  I^ady  More,  mother-in-law  of  Sir 
Thomas  More,  and  had  been  tyrannically  wrenched 
from  her  by  Henry  VIII.  on  the  execution  of  Sir 
Thomas,  though  not  her  son,  and  though  her  jointure 
from  a  former  husband. 


262  ftbe  (Barfcett 


introduce  cultivated  fields,  and  even  morsels  of 
a  forest  appearance,  by  the  sides  of  those  end- 
less and  tiresome  walks  that  stretched  out  of 
one  into  another  without  intermission.  But 
this  was  not  till  other  innovators  had  broken 
loose,  too,  from  rigid  symmetry.  But  the  capi- 
tal stroke,  the  leading  step  to  all  that  has 
followed,  was  (I  believe  the  first  thought  was 
Bridgman's)  the  destruction  of  walls  for  boun- 
daries, and  the  invention  of  fosses — an  attempt 
then  deemed  so  astonishing  that  the  common 
people  called  them  Ha  !  Ha's  !  to  express  their 
surprise  at  finding  a  sudden  and  unperceived 
check  to  their  walk. 

One  of  the  first  gardens  planted  in  this  simple, 
though  still  formal  style,  was  my  father's  at 
Hough  ton.  It  was  laid  out  by  Mr.  Byre,  an 
imitator  of  Bridgman.  It  contains  three  and 
twenty  acres,  then  reckoned  a  considerable 
portion. 

I  call  a  sunk  fence  the  leading  step  for  these 
reasons  :  No  sooner  was  this  simple  enchant- 
ment made,  than  levelling,  mowing,  and  rolling 
followed.  The  contiguous  ground  of  the  park, 
without  the  sunk  fence,  was  to  be  harmonized 
with  the  lawn  within  ;  and  the  garden  in  its 
turn  was  to  be  set  free  from  its  prim  regularity, 
that  it  might  assort  with  the  wilder  country 
without.  The  sunk  fence  ascertained  the 


•fcotace  Walpole  263 

specific  garden  ;  but  that  it  might  not  draw 
too  obvious  a  line  of  distinction  between  the 
neat  and  the  rude,  the  contiguous  out-lying 
parts  came  to  be  included  in  a  kind  of  general 
design  :  and  when  nature  was  taken  into  the 
plan,  under  improvements,  every  step  that  was 
made  pointed  out  new  beauties  and  inspired 
new  ideas.  At  that  moment  appeared  Kent, 
painter  enough  to  taste  the  charms  of  landscape, 
bold  and  opinionative  enough  to  dare  and  to 
dictate,  and  born  with  a  genius  to  strike  out  a 
great  system  from  the  twilight  of  imperfect 
essays.  He  leaped  the  fence  and  saw  that  all 
nature  was  a  garden.  He  felt  the  delicious 
contrast  of  hill  and  valley  changing  imper- 
ceptibly into  each  other,  tasted  the  beauty  of 
the  gentle  swell  or  concave  swoop,  and  re- 
marked how  loose  groves  crowned  an  easy 
eminence  with  happy  ornament ;  and  while 
they  called  in  the  distant  view  between  their 
graceful  stems,  removed  and  extended  the 
perspective  by  delusive  comparison. 

Thus  the  pencil  of  his  imagination  bestowed 
all  the  arts  of  landscape  on  the  scenes  he 
handled.  The  great  principles  on  which  he 
worked  were  perspective,  and  light  and  shade. 
Groups  of  trees  broke  too  uniform  or  too  ex- 
tensive a  lawn  ;  evergreens  and  woods  were 
opposed  to  the  glare  of  the  champaign  ;  and 


264  Gbe  (Barren 


where  the  view  was  less  fortunate,  or  so  much 
exposed  as  to  be  beheld  at  once,  he  blotted  out 
some  parts  by  thick  shades  to  divide  it  into 
variety,  or  to  make  the  richest  scene  more 
enchanting  by  reserving  it  to  a  farther  advance 
of  the  spectator's  step.  Thus  selecting  favorite 
objects  and  veiling  deformities  by  screens  of 
plantation,  sometimes  allowing  the  rudest  waste 
to  add  its  foil  to  the  richest  theatre,  he  realized 
the  compositions  of  the  greatest  masters  in 
painting.  Where  objects  were  wanting  to  ani- 
mate his  horizon,  his  taste  as  an  architect  could 
bestow  immediate  termination.  His  buildings, 
his  seats,  his  temples,  were  more  the  works  of 
his  pencil  than  of  his  compasses.  We  owe  the 
restoration  of  Greece  and  the  diffusion  of  archi- 
tecture to  his  skill  in  landscape. 

But  of  all  the  beauties  he  added  to  the  face 
of  this  beautiful  country  none  surpassed  his 
management  of  water.  Adieu  to  canals,  circu- 
lar basins,  and  cascades  tumbling  down  marble 
steps,  that  last  absurd  magnificence  of  Italian 
and  French  villas.  The  forced  elevation  of 
cataracts  was  no  more.  The  gentle  stream  was 
taught  to  serpentize  seemingly  at  its  pleasure, 
and  where  discontinued  by  different  levels  its 
course  appeared  to  be  concealed  by  thickets 
properly  interspersed,  and  glittered  again  at  a 
distance  where  it  might  be  supposed  naturally 


Ibotace  Matpote  265 

to  arrive.  Its  borders  were  smoothed,  but  pre- 
served their  waving  irregularity.  A  few  trees 
scattered  here  and  there  on  its  edges  sprinkled 
the  tame  bank  that  accompanied  its  meanders  ; 
and  when  it  disappeared  among  the  hills,  shades 
descending  from  the  heights  leaned  towards  its 
progress,  and  framed  the  distant  point  of  light 
under  which  it  was  lost,  as  it  turned  aside  to 
either  hand  of  the  blue  horizon. 

Thus  dealing  in  none  but  the  colors  of  nature, 
and  catching  its  most  favorable  features,  men 
saw  a  new  creation  opening  before  their  eyes. 
The  living  landscape  was  chastened  or  polished, 
not  transformed.  Freedom  was  given  to  the 
forms  of  trees  ;  they  extended  their  branches 
unrestricted,  and  where  any  eminent  oak  or 
master  beech  had  escaped  maiming  and  sur- 
vived the  forest,  bush  and  bramble  were  re- 
moved, and  all  its  honors  were  restored  to  dis- 
tinguish and  shade  the  plain.  Where  the  united 
plumage  of  an  ancient  wood  extended  wide  its 
undulating  canopy,  and  stood  venerable  in  its 
darkness,  Kent  thinned  the  foremost  ranks  and 
left  but  so  many  detached  and  scattered  trees  as 
softened  the  approach  of  gloom,  and  blended 
a  checkered  light  with  the  thus  lengthened 
shadows  of  the  remaining  columns. 

Succeeding  artists  have  added  new  master- 
strokes to  these  touches  ;  perhaps  improved  or 


266  Gbe  (Barren 


brought  to  perfection  some  that  I  have  named. 
The  introduction  of  foreign  trees  and  plants, 
which  we  owe  principally  to  Archibald,  Duke 
of  Argyle,  contributed  essentially  to  the  rich- 
ness of  coloring  so  peculiar  to  our  modern 
landscape.  The  mixture  of  various  greens,  the 
contrast  of  forms  between  our  forest-trees  and 
the  northern  and  West  Indian  firs  and  pines,  are 
improvements  more  recent  than  Kent,  or  but 
little  known  to  him.  The  weeping  willow,  and 
every  florid  shrub,  each  tree  of  delicate  or  bold 
leaf,  are  new  tints  in  the  composition  of  our 
gardens.  The  last  century  was  certainly  ac- 
quainted with  many  of  those  rare  plants  we  now 
admire.  The  Weymouth  pine  has  long  been 
naturalized  here ;  the  patriarch  plant  still  exists 
at  Longleat.  The  light  and  graceful  acacia  was 
known  as  early  ;  witness  those  ancient  stems  in 
the  court  of  Bedford  House  in  Bloomsbury 
Square ;  and  in  the  Bishop  of  London's  garden 
at  Fulham  are  many  exotics  of  very  ancient 
date.  I  doubt  therefore  whether  the  difficulty 
of  preserving  them  in  a  clime  so  foreign  to 
their  nature  did  not  convince  our  ancestors  of 
their  inutility  in  general ;  unless  the  shapeliness 
of  the  lime  and  horse-chestnut,  which  accorded 
so  well  with  established  regularity,  and  which 
thence  and  from  their  novelty  grew  in  fashion, 


•boracc  tKHalpote  267 

did  not  occasion  the  neglect  of  the  more  curious 
plants. 

But  just,  as  the  encomiums  are  that  I  have 
bestowed  on  Kent's  discoveries,  he  was  neither 
without  assistance  nor  faults.  Mr.  Pope  un- 
doubtedly contributed  to  form  his  taste.  The 
design  of  the  Prince  of  Wales'  garden  at  Carlton 
House  was  evidently  borrowed  from  the  poet's 
at  Twickenham.  There  was  a  little  of  affected 
modesty  in  the  latter,  when  he  said,  of  all  his 
works  he  was  most  proud  of  his  garden.  And 
yet  it  was  a  singular  effort  of  art  and  taste,  to 
impress  so  much  variety  of  scenery  on  a  spot 
of  five  acres.  The  passing  through  the  gloom 
from  the  grotto  to  the  opening  day,  the  retiring 
and  again  assembling  shades,  the  dusky  groves, 
the  larger  lawn,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  termi- 
nation at  the  cypresses  that  lead  up  to  his 
mother's  tomb,  are  managed  with  excellent 
judgment ;  and  though  Lord  Petersborough 
assisted  him 

"  To  form  his  quincunx  and  to  rank  his  vines," 

those  were  not  the  most  pleasing  ingredients 
of  his  little  perspective. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  disposition  of  the 
garden  at  Rousham,  laid  out  for  General  Dor- 
mer, and  in  my  opinion  the  most  engaging  of 


268  tTbe  (Barfcen 


all  Kent's  works,  was  not  planned  on  the  model 
of  Mr.  Pope's,  at  least  in  the  opening  and  re- 
tiring shades  of  Venus'  vale.  The  whole  is  as 
elegant  and  antique  as  if  the  Emperor  Julian 
had  selected  the  most  pleasing  solitude  about 
Daphne  to  enjoy  a  philosophic  retirement. 

That  Kent's  ideas  were  but  rarely  great  was 
in  some  measure  owing  to  the  novelty  of  his  art. 
It  would  have  been  difficult  to  have  transported 
the  style  of  gardening  at  once  from  a  few  acres 
to  tumbling  of  forests ;  and  though  new  fash- 
ions, like  new  religions  (which  are  new  fash- 
ions), often  lead  men  to  the  most  opposite  ex- 
cesses, it  could  not  be  the  case  in  gardening, 
where  the  experiments  would  have  been  so  ex- 
pensive. Yet  it  is  true,  that  the  features 
in  Kent's  landscapes  were  seldom  majestic. 
His  clumps  were  puny,  he  aimed  at  immedi- 
ate effect,  and  planted  not  for  futurity.  One 
sees  no  large  woods  sketched  out  by  his  direc- 
tion. Nor  are  we  yet  entirely  risen  above  a  too 
great  frequency  of  small  clumps,  especially  in 
the  elbows  of  serpentine  rivers.  How  common 
to  see  three  or  four  beeches,  then  as  many 
larches,  a  third  knot  of  cypresses,  and  a  revo- 
lution of  all  three  !  Kent's  last  designs  were  in 
a  higher  style,  as  his  ideas  opened  on  success. 
The  north  terrace  at  Claremont  was  much  supe- 
rior to  the  rest  of  the  garden. 


Iborace  Walpole  269 

A  return  of  some  particular  thoughts  was  com- 
mon to  him  with  other  painters,  and  made  his 
hand  known.  A  small  lake  edged  by  a  wind- 
ing bank  with  scattered  trees  that  led  to  a  seat 
at  the  head  of  the  pond,  was  common  to  Clare- 
mont,  Bsher,  and  others  of  "his  designs.  At 
Esher, 

"  Where  Kent  and  Nature  vied  for  Pelham's  love," 

the  prospects  more  than  aided  the  painter's 
genius.  They  marked  out  the  points  where  his 
art  was  necessary  or  not,  but  thence  left  his 
judgment  in  possession  of  all  its  glory. 

Having  routed  prof essed  art ^  for  the  modern 
gardener  exerts  his  talents  to  conceal  his  art, 
Kent,  like  other  reformers,  knew  not  how  to 
stop  at  the  just  limits.  He  had  followed  nature, 
and  imitated  her  so  happily,  that  he  began  to 
think  all  her  works  were  equally  proper  for  im- 
itation. In  Kensington  Garden  he  planted  deal 
trees,  to  give  a  greater  air  of  truth  to  the  scene  : 
but  he  was  soon  laughed  out  of  this  excess. 
His  ruling  principle  was,  that  nature  abhors  a 
straight  line  ;  his  mimics,  for  every  genius  has 
his  apes,  seemed  to  think  that  she  could  love 
nothing  but  what  was  crooked.  Yet  so  many 
men  of  taste  of  all  ranks  devoted  themselves  to 
the  new  improvements,  that  it  is  surprising  how 
much  beauty  has  been  struck  out,  with  how 


270 


few  absurdities.  Still  in  some  lights  the  refor- 
mation seems  to  me  to  have  been  pushed  too 
far.  Though  an  avenue  crossing  a  park  or  sep- 
arating a  lawn,  and  intercepting  views  from  the 
seat  to  which  it  leads,  are  capital  faults,  yet  a 
great  avenue  *  cut  through  woods,  perhaps  be- 
fore entering  a  park,  has  a  noble  air,  and, 

"  I^ike  footmen  running-  before  coaches — 
To  tell  the  inn  what  lord  approaches," 

announces  the  habitation  of  some  man  of  dis- 
tinction. 

In  other  places  the  total  banishment  of  all 
particular  neatness  immediately  about  a  house, 
which  is  frequently  left  gazing  by  itself  in  the 
middle  of  a  park,  is  a  defect.  Sheltered  and 
even  close  walks,  in  so  very  uncertain  a  climate 
as  ours,  are  comforts  ill  exchanged  for  the  few 
picturesque  days  that  we  enjoy  ;  and  when- 
ever a  family  can  purloin  a  warm  and  even 
something  of  an  old-fashioned  garden,  from  the 
landscape  designed  for  them  by  the  undertaker 

*  Of  this  kind,  one  of  the  most  noble  is  that  of  Stanstead, 
the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Halifax,  traversing  an  ancient 
wood  for  two  miles,  and  bounded  by  the  sea.  The  very 
extensive  lawns  at  that  seat,  richly  enclosed  by  venera- 
ble beech  woods,  and  checkered  by  single  beeches  of 
vast  size,  particularly  when  you  stand  in  the  portico  of 
the  temple  and  survey  the  landscape  that  wastes  itself 
in  rivers  of  broken  seas  recall  such  exact  pictures  of 
Claude  Lorraine,  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  he  did 
not  paint  them  from  this  very  spot. 


Iborace  Walpole  271 

in  fashion,  without  interfering  with  the  pic- 
ture, they  will  find  satisfaction  on  those  days 
that  do  not  invite  strangers  to  come  and  see 
their  improvements. 

Fountains  have  with  great  reason  been  ban- 
ished from  gardens  as  unnatural ;  but  it  sur- 
prises me  that  they  have  not  been  allotted  to 
their  proper  position — to  cities,  towns,  and  the 
courts  of  great  houses,  as  proper  accompani- 
ments to  architecture,  and  as  works  of  grandeur 
in  themselves.  Their  decorations  admit  the 
utmost  invention  ;  and  when  the  waters  are 
thrown  up  to  different  stages,  and  tumble  over 
their  border,  nothing  has  a  more  imposing  or  a 
more  refreshing  sound.  A  palace  demands  its 
external  graces  and  attributes,  as  much  as  a 
garden.  Fountains  and  cypresses  peculiarly 
become  buildings  ;  and  no  man  can  have  been 
at  Rome,  and  seen  the  vast  basins  of  marble 
dashed  with  perpetual  cascades  in  the  area  of 
St.  Peter's,  without  retaining  an  idea  of  taste  and 
splendor.  Those  in  the  Piazza  Navona  are  as 
useful  as  sublimely  conceived. 

Grottos  in  this  climate  are  recesses  only 
to  be  looked  at  transiently.  When  they  are 
regularly  composed  within  of  symmetry  and 
architecture,  as  in  Italy,  they  are  only  splendid 
improprieties.  The  most  judiciously,  indeed 
most  fortunately,  placed  grotto,  is  that  at  Stour- 


272 


head,  where  the  river  bursts  from  the  urn  of  its 
god,  and  passes  on  its  course  through  the  cave. 

But  it  is  not  my  business  to  lay  down  rules  for 
gardens,  but  to  give  a  history  of  them.  A  sys- 
tem of  rules  pushed  to  a  great  degree  of  refine- 
ment, and  collected  from  the  best  examples  and 
practice,  has  been  lately  given  in  a  book  entitled 
"Observations  on  Modern  Gardening."  The 
work  is  very  ingeniously  and  carefully  executed, 
and  in  point  of  utility  rather  exceeds  than  omits 
any  necessary  directions.  The  author  will  ex- 
cuse me  if  I  think  it  a  little  excess,  when  he 
examines  that  rude  and  unappropriated  scene 
of  Matlocke  Bath,  and  criticises  nature  for  hav- 
ing bestowed  on  the  rapid  river  Derwent  too 
many  cascades. 

How  can  this  censure  be  brought  home  to  gar- 
dening ?  The  management  of  rocks  is  a  prov- 
ince can  fall  to  few  directors  of  gardens  ;  still  in 
our  distant  provinces  such  a  guide  may  be 
necessary. 

The  author  divides  his  subject  into  gardens, 
parks,  farms,  and  ridings.  I  do  not  mean  to  find 
fault  with  this  division.  Directions  are  requi- 
site to  each  kind,  and  each  has  its  department  at 
many  of  the  great  scenes  from  whence  he 
drew  his  observations.  In  the  historic  light,  I 
distinguished  them  into  the  garden  that  con- 
nects itself  with  a  park,  into  the  ornamented 


Iborace  IDdatpole  273 

farm,  and  into  the  forest  or  savage  garden. 
Kent,  as  I  have  shown,  invented  or  established 
the  first  sort.  Mr.  Philip  Southcote  founded 
the  second,  or  ferme  orn£e>  of  which  is  a  very 
just  description  in  the  author  I  have  been  quot- 
ing. The  third  I  think  he  has  not  enough  dis- 
tinguished. I  mean  that  kind  of  Alpine  scene, 
composed  almost  wholly  of  pines  and  firs,  a  few 
birch,  and  such  trees  as  assimilate  with  a  sav- 
age and  mountainous  country.  Mr.  Charles 
Hamilton,  at  Pain's  Hill,  in  my  opinion  has 
given  a  perfect  example  of  this  mode  in  the  ut- 
itnost  boundary  of  his  garden.  All  is  great  and 
foreign  and  rude  ;  the  walks  seem  not  designed, 
but  cut  through  the  wood  of  pines  ;  and  the 
istyle  of  the  whole  is  so  grand,  and  conducted 
with  so  serious  an  air  of  wild  and  uncultivated 
extent,  that  when  you  look  down  on  this  seem- 
ing forest  you  are  amazed  to  find  it  contain  a 
very  few  acres.  In  general,  except  as  a  screen 
to  conceal  some  deformity,  or  as  a  shelter  in 
winter,  I  am  not  fond  of  total  plantations  of 
evergreens.  Firs  in  particular  form  a  very  un- 
graceful summit,  all  broken  into  angles. 

Sir  Henry  Bnglefield  was  one  of  the  first  im- 
provers on  the  new  style,  and  selected  with 
singular  taste  that  chief  beauty  of  all  gardens 
— prospect  and  fortunate  points  of  view.  We  tire 
of  all  the  painter's  art  when  it  wants  these 


274 


finishing  touches.  The  fairest  scenes,  that  de- 
pend upon  themselves  alone,  weary  when  often 
seen.  The  Doric  portico,  the  Palladian  bridge, 
the  Gothic  ruin,  the  Chinese  pagoda,  that  sur- 
prise the  stranger,  soon  lose  their  charms  to 
their  surfeited  master.  The  lake  that  floats  the 
valley  is  still  more  lifeless,  and  its  lord  seldom 
enjoys  his  expense  but  when  he  shows  it  to  a 
visitor.  But  the  ornament  whose'  merit  soonest 
fades  is  the  hermitage,  or  scene  adapted  to  con- 
templation. It  is  almost  comic  to  set  aside  a 
quarter  of  one's  garden  to  be  melancholy  in. 
Prospect,  animated  prospect,  is  the  theatre  that 
will  always  be  the  most  frequented.  Prospects 
formerly  were  sacrificed  to  convenience  and 
warmth.  Thus  Burleigh  stands  behind  a  hill, 
from  the  top  of  which  it  would  command  Stam- 
ford. Our  ancestors,  who  resided  the  greatest 
part  of  the  year  at  their  seats,  as  others  did  two 
years  together  or  more,  had  an  eye  to  com- 
fort first,  before  expense.  Their  vast  mansions 
received  and  harbored  all  the  younger  branches, 
the  dowagers  and  ancient  maiden  aunts  of  the 
families ;  and  other  families  visited  them  for  a 
month  together.  Their  method  of  living  is 
now  totally  changed,  and  yet  the  same  superb 
palaces  are  still  created,  becoming  a  pompous 
solitude  to  the  owner,  and  a  transient  enter- 
tainment to  a  few  travellers.  If  any  incident 


Iboracc  TKHalpole  275 

abolishes  or  restrains  the  modern  style  of  gar- 
dening, it  will  be  this  circumstance  of  solitari- 
ness. The  greater  the  scene,  the  more  distant  it  is 
probably  from  the  capital,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  which  land  is  too  dear  to  admit  considerable 
extent  of  property.  Men  tire  of  expense  that 
is  obvious  to  few  spectators.  Still,  there  is 
a  more  eminent  danger  that  threatens  the  pres- 
ent, as  it  has  ever  done  all  taste — I  mean  the 
pursuit  of  variety.  A  modern  French  writer 
has  in  a  very  affected  phrase  given  a  just 
account  of  this,  I  will  call  it,  distemper.  He 
says  :  D 'ennui  du  beau  amene  le  gout  singu- 
lier.  The  noble  simplicity  of  the  Augustan 
age  was  driven  out  by  false  taste.  The  gigan- 
tic, the  puerile,  the  quaint,  and  at  last  the 
barbarous  and  the  monkish,  had  each  their  suc- 
cessive admirers.  Music  has  been  improved  till 
it  is  a  science  of  tricks  and  sleight-of-hand  ;  the 
sober  greatness  of  Titian  is  lost,  and  painting 
since  Carlo  Maratti  has  little  more  relief  than 
Indian  paper.  Borromini  twisted  and  curled 
architecture,  as  if  it  was  subject  to  the  change 
of  fashions  like  a  head  of  hair.  If  we  once  lose 
sight  of  the  propriety  of  landscape  in  our  gar- 
dens, we  shall  wander  into  all  the  fantastic 
sharawadgis  of  the  Chinese.  We  have  dis- 
covered the  point  of  perfection.  We  have  given 
the  true  model  of  gardening  to  the  world.  Let 


276  Gbe  (Barren 


other  countries  mimic  or  corrupt  our  taste  ;  but 
let  it  reign  here  on  its  verdant  throne,  original 
by  its  elegant  simplicity,  and  proud  of  no  other 
art  than  that  of  softening  nature's  harshnesses 
and  copying  her  graceful  touch. 

The  ingenious  author  of  the  "  Observations 
on  Modern  Gardening"  is,  I  think,  too  rigid 
when  he  condemns  some  deceptions  because 
they  have  been  often  used.  If  those  decep- 
tions, as  a  feigned  steeple  of  a  distant  church, 
or  an  unreal  bridge  to  disguise  the  termination 
of  water,  were  intended  only  to  surprise,  they 
were  indeed  tricks  that  would  not  bear  repe- 
tition ;  but  being  intended  to  improve  the 
landscape,  are  no  more  to  be  condemned  be- 
cause common,  than  they  would  be  if  employed 
by  a  painter  in  the  composition  of  a  picture. 
Ought  one  man's  garden  to  be  deprived  of  a 
happy  object,  because  that  object  has  been 
employed  by  another?  The  more  we  exact 
novelty,  the  sooner  our  taste  will  be  vitiated. 
Situations  are  everywhere  so  various  that  there 
never  can  be  a  sameness,  while  the  disposition 
of  the  ground  is  studied  and  followed,  and  every 
incident  of  view  turned  to  advantage. 

In  the  meantime,  how  rich,  how  gay,  how 
picturesque  the  face  of  the  country  !  The  demo- 
lition of  walls  laying  open  each  improvement, 
every  journey  is  made  through  a%  succession  of 


Iborace  tKftatpote  277 v 

pictures ;  and  even  where  taste  is  wanting  in  the 
spot  improved,  the  general  view  is  embellished 
by  variety.  If  no  relapse  to  barbarism,  formal- 
ity, and  seclusion  is  made,  what  landscapes  will 
dignify  every  quarter  of  our  island,  where  the 
daily  plantations  that  are  making  have  attained 
venerable  maturity  !  A  specimen  of  what  our 
gardens  will  be  may  be  seen  at  Petworth,  where 
the  portion  of  the  park  nearest  the  house  has 
been  allotted  to  the  modern  style.  It  is  a  gar- 
den of  oaks  two  hundred  years  old.  If  there  is 
a  fault  in  so  august  a  fragment  of  improved 
nature,  it  is  that  the  size  of  the  trees  is  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  shrubs  and  accompani- 
ments. In  truth,  shrubs  should  not  only  be 
reserved  for  particular  spots  and  home  delight, 
but  are  past  their  beauty  in  less  than  twenty 
years. 

Enough  has  been  done  to  establish  such  a 
school  of  landscape  as  cannot  be  found  on  the 
rest  of  the  globe.  If  we  have  the  seeds  of  a 
Claude  or  a  Caspar  amongst  us,  he  must  come 
forth.  If  wood,  water,  groves,  valleys,  glades, 
can  inspire  or  poet  or  painter,  this  is  the  coun- 
try, this  is  the  age  to  produce  them.  The 
flocks,  the  herds,  that  are  now  admitted  into, 
now  graze  on  the  borders  of,  our  cultivated 
plains,  are  ready  before  the  painter's  eyes,  and 
group  themselves  to  animate  his  picture.  One 


278  ftbe  <3ar6ert 


misfortune,  in  truth,  there  is,  that  throws  a 
difficulty  on  the  artist.  A  principal  beauty  in 
our  gardens  is  the  lawn  and  smoothness  of 
turf;  in  a  picture  it  becomes  a  dead  and  uni- 
form spot,  incapable  of  chiaro-scuro,  and  to  be 
broken  insipidly  by  children,  dogs,  and  other 
unmeaning  figures. 

Since  we  have  been  familiarized  to  the  study 
of  landscape  we  hear  less  of  what  delighted  our 
sportsmen-ancestors — a  fine  open  country.  Wilt- 
shire, Dorsetshire,  and  such  ocean -like  extents, 
were  formerly  preferred  to  the  rich  blue  pros- 
pects of  Kent,  to  the  Thames-watered  views  in 
Berkshire,  and  to  the  magnificent  scale  of  na- 
ture in  Yorkshire.  An  open  country  is  but  a  can- 
vas on  which  a  landscape  might  be  designed. 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  country  and  Mr.  Kent 
that  he  was  succeeded  by  a  very  able  master ; 
and  did  living  artists  come  within  my  plan,  I 
should  be  glad  to  do  justice  to  Mr.  Brown  ;  but 
he  may  be  a  gainer  by  being  reserved  for  some 
abler  pen. 

In  general  it  is  probably  true,  that  the  pos- 
sessor, if  he  has  any  taste,  must  be  the  best 
designer  of  his  own  improvements.  He  sees 
his  situation  in  all  seasons  of  the  year,  at  all 
times  of  the  day.  He  knows  where  beauty  will 
not  clash  with  convenience,  and  observes  in 
Ids  silent  walks,  or  accidental  rides,  a  thousand 


•foorace  IDdalpole 


hints  that  must  escape  a  person  who  in  a  few 
days  sketches  out  a  pretty  picture,  but  has  not 
had  leisure  to  examine  the  details  and  relations 
of  every  part. 

Truth,  which,  after  the  opposition  given  to  most 
revolutions,  preponderates  at  last,  will  probably 
not  carry  our  style  of  garden  into  general  use 
on  the  Continent.  The  expense  is  only  suited 
to  the  opulence  of  a  free  country,  where  emula- 
tion reigns  among  many  independent  particu- 
lars. The  keeping  of  our  grounds  is  an  obstacle, 
as  well  as  the  cost  of  the  first  formation.  A  flat 
country,  like  Holland,  is  incapable  of  land- 
scape. In  France  and  Italy  the  nobility  do  not 
reside  much,  and  make  small  expense  at  their 
villas.  I  should  think  the  little  princes  of 
Germany,  who  spare  no  profusion  on  their 
palaces  and  country-houses,  most  likely  to  be 
our  imitators  ;  especially  as  their  country  and 
climate  bears  in  many  parts  resemblance  to 
ours.  In  France,  and  still  less  in  Italy,  they 
could  with  difficulty  attain  that  verdure  which 
the  humidity  of  our  clime  bestows  as  the 
groundwork  of  our  improvements.  As  great 
an  obstacle  in  France  is  the  embargo  laid  on 
the  growth  of  their  trees  :  as  after  a  certain  age, 
when  they  would  rise  to  bulk,  they  are  liable  to 
be  marked  by  the  crown's  surveyors  as  royal 
timber,  it  is  a  curiosity  to  see  an  old  tree.  A 


280  tTbe  (Barren 


landscape  and    a  crown   surveyor  are   incom- 
patible. 

I  have  thus  brought  down  to  the  conclusion 
of  the  last  reign  (the  period  I  had  marked  to 
this  work)  the  history  of  our  arts  and  artists, 
from  the  earliest  era  in  which  we  can  be  said  to 
have  had  either.  Though  there  have  been  only 
gleams  of  light  and  flashes  of  genius,  rather 
than  progressive  improvements  or  flourishing 
schools,  the  inequality  and  insufficiency  of  the 
execution  have  flowed  more  from  my  own  de- 
fects than  from  those  of  the  subject.  The 
merits  of  the  work,  if  it  has  any,  are  owing  to 
the  indefatigable  industry  of  Mr.  Vertue  in 
amassing  all  possible  materials.  As  my  task  is 
finished,  it  will,  I  hope,  at  least  excite  others  to 
collect  and  preserve  notices  and  anecdotes  for 
some  future  continuator.  The  era  promises  to 
furnish  a  nobler  harvest.  Our  exhibitions,  and 
the  institution  of  a  Royal  Academy,  inspire  the 
artists  with  emulation,  and  recommend  them 
to  employment.  The  public  examines  and  rea- 
sons on  their  works,  and  spectators  by  degrees 
become  judges.  Nor  are  persons  of  the  first 
rank  mere  patrons.  Lord  Harcourt's  etchings 
are  superior  in  boldness  and  freedom  of  stroke 
to  any  thing  we  have  seen  from  established 
artists.  Gardening  and  architecture  owe  as 
much  to  the  nobility  and  to  men  of  fortune  as 


Ibotace 


to  the  professors.  I  need  but  name  General 
Con  way's  rustic  bridge,  at  Park  Place,  of  which 
every  stone  was  placed  by  his  own  direction  in 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  scenes  in  nature  ;  and 
the  theatric  staircase  designed  and  just  erected 
by  Mr.  Chute,  at  his  seat  of  the  Vine  in  Hamp- 
shire. If  a  model  is  sought  of  the  most  perfect 
taste  in  architecture,  where  grace  softens  dig- 
nity, and  lightness  attempers  magnificence; 
where  proportion  removes  every  part  from 
peculiar  observation,  and  delicacy  of  execution 
recalls  every  part  to  notice  ;  where  the  position 
is  most  happy,  and  even  the  color  of  the  stone 
the  most  harmonious,  the  virtuoso  should  be 
directed  to  the  new  front*  of  Wentworth 
Castle,  —  the  result  of  the  same  elegant  judg- 
ment that  had  before  distributed  so  many 
beauties  over  that  domain,  and  called  from 
wood,  water,  hills,  prospects,  and  buildings,  a 
compendium  of  picturesque  nature,  improved 
by  the  chastity  of  art.  Such  an  era  will  de- 
mand a  better  historian.  With  pleasure,  there- 
fore, I  resign  my  pen,  presuming  to  recommend 
nothing  to  my  successor,  but  to  observe  a  strict 
impartiality. 
AUGUST  2,  1770. 

*  The  old  front,  still  extant,  was  erected  by  Thomas 
Wentworth,  late  Earl  of  Stafford  ;  the  new  one  was 
entirely  designed  by  the  present  Karl  William  himself. 


JOHN 


OF  FENCES  AND   QUICKSETS. 
From  "  Silva."  * 

OUR  main  plantation  is  now  finished,  and 
our  forest  adorned  with  a  just  variety. 
But  what  is  yet  all  this  labor,  but  loss  of  time 
and  irreparable  expense,  unless  our  young  and 
(as  yet)  tender  plants  be  sufficiently  guarded 
with  munitions  from  all  external  injuries?  For, 
as  old  Tusser, 

"  If  cattle  or  coney  may  enter  to  crop, 
Young  oak  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  top." 

But  with  something  of  a  more  polished  style, 
though  to  the  same  purpose,  the  best  of  poets  : 

Texendez  sepes  etiam,  et pecusomne  tenendum  est : 
Prcecipu£  dumfrons  tenera,  imprudensque  laborum  : 

*  A  discourse  delivered  before  the  Royal  Society  on  the 
isth  of  October,  1662.  The  notes  to  this  selection  are 
those  appended  to  the  edition  of  1777. 


3obn  jEvelgn  283 


Cui,  super  indignas  hy ernes,  solemque  potentem, 
Sylvestres  uri  assidue,  capre&que  sequaces 
Illudunt ;  pascuniur  oves,  avid&quejuvenccz. 
Frigora  nee  tantum  cana  concreta  pruina, 
Aut grams  incumbens  scopulis  arentibus  czstas ; 
Q  antum  illi  nocuere greges,  durique  venenum 
Dentis,  et  admorso  signata  in  stirpe  cicatrix. 

—Georg.,  ii. 

"  Guard,  too,  from  cattle  thy  new  planted  ground, 
And  infant  vines  that  ill  can  bear  a  wound  : 
For  not  alone  by  winter's  chilling  frost, 
Or  summer's  scorching  beam  the  young  are  lost ; 
But  the  wild  buffaloes  and  greedy  cows, 
And  goats  and  sportive  kids  the  branches  browze  ; 
Not  piercing  colds,  nor  Sirius'  beams  that  beat 
On  the  parched  hills,  and  split  their  tops  with  heat, 
So  deeply  injure,  as  the  nibbling  flocks, 
That  wound  with  venom'd   teeth  the  tender,  fearful 
stocks." 


The  reason  that  so  many  complain  of  the  im- 
prosperous  condition  of  their  woodlands  and 
plantations  of  this  kind,  proceeds  from  this 
neglect ;  though,  sheep  excepted,  there  is  no 
employment  whatsoever  incident  to  the  farmer, 
which  requires  less  expense  to  gratify  his  ex- 
pectations ;  one  diligent  and  skilful  man  will 
govern  five  hundred  acres.  But  if  through  any 
accident  a  beast  shall  break  into  his  master's 
field,  or  the  wicked  hunter  make  a  gap  for 
his  dogs  and  horses,  what  a  clamor  is  there 


284  Hbe  <3ar&ett 


made  for  the  disturbance  of  a  year's  crop  at 
most  in  a  little  corn !  whilst  abandoning  his 
young  woods  all  this  time,  and  perhaps  many 
years,  to  the  venomous  bitings  and  treading 
of  cattle,  and  other  like  injuries,  for  want  of 
due  care,  the  detriment  is  many  times  irrepar- 
able, young  trees  once  cropped  hardly  ever 
recovering.  It  is  the  bane  of  all  our  most  hope- 
ful timber. 

But  shall  I  provoke  you  by  an  instance  ?  A 
kinsman  of  mine  has  a  wood  of  more  than  sixty 
years'  standing.  It  was,  before  he  purchased  it, 
exposed  and  abandoned  to  the  cattle  for  divers 
years.  Some  of  the  outward  skirts  were  nothing 
save  shrubs  and  miserable  starvelings  ;  yet  still 
the  place  was  disposed  to  grow  woody,  but  by 
this  neglect  continually  suppressed.  The  in- 
dustrious gentleman  fenced  in  some  acres  of 
this,  and  cut  all  close  to  the  ground  ;  and  it  is 
come  in  eight  or  nine  years  to  be  better  worth 
than  the  wood  of  sixty,  and  will,  in  time,  prove 
most  incomparable  timber ;  whilst  the  other 
part,  so  many  years  advanced,  shall  never  re- 
cover :  and  all  this  from  no  other  cause  than 
preserving  it  fenced.  Judge  then  by  this,  how 
our  woods  come  to  be  so  decried !  Are  five 
hundred  sheep  worthy  the  care  of  a  shepherd  ? 
And  are  not  five  thousand  oaks  worth  the  fen- 
cing, and  the  inspection  of  a  hayward  ? 


Jobn  Bvelgn  285 


Et  dubitant  homines  serere,  atque  impendere  curam  ? 

— Georg.,  ii. 

"  And  shall  men  doubt  to  plant,  and  careful  be  ?  " 

Let  us  therefore  shut  up  what  we  have  thus  labo- 
riously planted,  with  some  good  quickset  hedge. 

THE  HAWTHORN. 

The  hawthorn  *  is  raised  off  seeds  ;  but  then 
it  must  not  be  with  despair  because  sometimes 
you  do  not  see  them  peep  the  first  year  ;  for 
the  haw,  and  many  other  seeds,  being  invested 
with  a  very  hard  integument,  will  now  and  then 
suffer  imprisonment  two  whole  years  under  the 

*  The  hawthorn,  of  all  other  thorns,  is  the  best  calcu- 
lated for  forming  a  good  fence  ;  and  in  all  new  enclosures 
is  solely  applied  to  that  purpose.  The  plants  should,  at 
least,  be  three  years  old,  with  good  roots,  and  put  down 
in  single  rows,  allowing  four  inches  between  each  plant. 
Such  a  hedge,  if  properly  attended  to,  will  in  six  years 
be  proof  against  sheep  arid  cattle  ;  but  if  neglected  for 
the  first  two  years,  especially  if  the  land  be  poor,  much 
art  will  be  required  to  form  it  afterwards  into  a  good 
fence. 

Quickset  hedges  are  of  great  antiquity.  It  appears 
from  Homer  that,  when  Ulysses  returned  to  his  father, 
I^aertes,  the  good  old  man,  had  sent  his  servants  into 
the  woods  to  gather  young  thorns,  and  was  occupied 
himself  in  preparing  ground  to  receive  them. — Odyssey, 
lib.  xxiv.^  Varro  calls  this  sort  of  fence,  Tutela  nat- 
uralis  et  mva.  And  Columella  prefers  it  before  the  struc- 
tile  one,  or  dead  hedge,  as  being  more  lasting  and  less 
expensive.  Vetustissimi  auctores  vivam  sepem  structili 
pr<ztulerunt,  quia  non  solum  minorem  impensam  desider- 
aret,  verum  etiam  diuturnior  immensis  temporifyus  per- 
maneret—Ds.  R.  R.,  lib,  xi. 


286 


earth;  and  our  impatience  at  this  does  often 
frustrate  the  resurrection  of  divers  seeds  of  this 
nature,  so  that  we  frequently  dig  up  and  dis- 
turb the  beds  where  they  have  been  sown,  in 
despair,  before  they  have  gone  their  full  time, 
which  is  also  the  reason  of  a  very  popular  mis- 
take in  other  seeds,  especially  that  of  the  holly, 
concerning  which  there  goes  a  tradition,  that 
they  will  not  sprout  till  they  be  passed  through 
the  maw  of  a  thrush.  They  come  up  very  well 
off  the  berries,  treated  as  I  have  showed  in 
book  I.,  chap,  xxi.,  and  with  patience;  for 
as  I  affirmed,  they  will  sleep  sometimes  two 
entire  years  in  their  graves  ;  as  will  also  the 
seeds  of  yew,  sloe,  Phillyrea  angustifolia,  and 
sundry  others,  whose  shells  are  very  hard  about 
the  small  kernels  ;  but  which  is  wonderfully 
facilitated  by  being,  as  we  directed,  prepared  in 
beds,  and  magazines  of  earth  or  sand,  for  a 
competent  time,  and  then  committed  to  the 
ground  before  the  full  in  March  ;  by  which 
season  they  will  be  chitting,  and  especially  take 
root.  Others  bury  them  deep  in  the  ground  all 
winter,  and  sow  them  in  February.  And  thus  I 
have  been  told  of  a  gentleman  who  has  con- 
siderably improved  his  revenue,  by  sowing 
haws  only,  and  raising  nurseries  of  quicksets, 
which  he  sells  by  the  hundred  far  and  near; 
this  is  a  CQtnrne.nclable  industry. 


Jobn  j£x>el£tt  287 

But  Columella  has  another  expedient  for  the 
raising  of  our  spinetutn,  by  rubbing  the  now 
mature  hips  and  haws,  ashen-keys,  etc.,  into 
the  crevices  of  bass-ropes,  or  wisps  of  straw,  and 
then  burying  them  in  a  trench.  Whether  way 
you  attempt  it,  they  must  (so  soon  as  they 
peep,  and  as  long  as  they  require  it)  be  sedu- 
lously cleansed  of  the  weeds  ;  which,  if  in  beds 
for  transplantation,  had  need  be,  at  the  least, 
three  or  four  years  ;  by  which  time  even  your 
seedlings  will  be  of  stature  fit  to  remove.  For  I 
do  by  no  means  approve  of  the  vulgar  prema- 
ture planting  of  sets,  as  is  generally  used 
throughout  England ;  which  is  to  take  such 
only  as  are  the  very  smallest,  and  so  to  crowd 
them  into  three  or  four  files,  which  are  both 
egregious  mistakes. 

Whereas  it  is  found  by  constant  experience, 
that  plants  as  big  as  one's  thumb,  set  in  the 
posture,  and  at  the  distance  which  we  spake  of 
in  the  hornbeam — that  is,  almost  perpendicular, 
(not  altogether,  because  the  rain  should  not  get 
in  betwixt  the  rind  and  wood),  and  single,  or  at 
most  not  exceeding  a  double  row,  do  prosper 
infinitely,  and  much  outstrip  the  densest  and 
closest  ranges  of  our  trifling  sets  which  make 
but  weak  shoots,  and  whose  roots  do  but  hinder 
each  other,  and  for  being  couched  in  that  pos- 
ture, on  the  sides  of  banks  and  fences  (espe- 


288 


cially  where  the  earth  is  not  very  tenacious), 
are  bared  of  the  mould  which  should  entertain 
them,  by  that  time  the  rains  and  storms  of  one 
winter  have  passed  over  them.  In  Holland 
and  Flanders  (where  they  have  the  goodliest 
hedges  of  this  kind  about  the  counterscarps  of 
their  invincible  fortifications,  to  the  great  secu- 
rity of  their  musketeers  upon  occasion)  they 
plant  them  according  to  my  description,  and 
raise  fences  so  speedily,  and  so  impenetrable, 
that  our  best  are  not  to  enter  into  the  compari- 
son. Yet  that  I  may  not  be  wanting  to  direct 
such  as  either  affect  the  other  way,  or  whose 
grounds  may  require  some  bank  of  earth,  as  or- 
dinarily the  verges  of  copses  and  other  enclos- 
ures do,  you  shall  by  line  cast  up  your  foss  of 
about  three  feet  broad,  and  about  the  same 
depth,  provided  your  mould  hold  out;  begin- 
ning first  to  turn  the  turf,  upon  which  be  care- 
ful to  lay  some  of  the  best  earth  to  bed  your 
quick  in,  and  there  lay  or  set  the  plants,  two  in 
a  foot  space  is  sufficient ;  being  diligent  to 
procure  such  as  are  fresh- gathered,  straight, 
smooth,  and  well-rooted  ;  adding  now  and  then, 
at  equal  spaces  of  twenty  or  thirty  feet,  a  young 
oakling  or  elm-sucker,  ash,  or  the  like,  which 
will  come  in  time,  especially  in  plain  countries, 
to  be  ornamental  standards,  and  good  timber. 
If  you  will  needs  multiply  your  rows,  a  foot,  or 


Jobn  J6\>elgn  289 


somewhat  less,  above  that,  upon  more  congested 
mould,  plant  another  rank  of  sets,  so  as  to  point 
just  in  the  middle  of  the  vacuities  of  the  first, 
which  I  conceive  enough.  This  is  but  for  the 
single  foss ;  but  if  you  would  fortify  it  to  the 
purpose,  do  as  much  on  the  other  side,  of  the 
same  depth,  height,  and  planting ;  and  then, 
last  of  all,  cap  the  top  v&pyramis  with  the  worst, 
or  bottom  of  the  ditch.  Some,  if  the  mould  be 
good,  plant  a  row  or  two  on  the  hedge,  or  very 
crest  of  the  mound,  which  ought  to  be  a  little 
flattened.  Here  also  many  set  their  dry  hedge ; 
for  hedges  must  be  hedged  till  they  are  able  to 
defend  and  shade  their  under  plantation,  and  I 
cannot  reprove  it ;  but  great  care  is  to  be  had 
in  this  work,  that  the  main  bank  be  well  footed, 
and  not  made  with  too  sudden  a  declivity, 
which  is  subject  to  fall  in  after  frosts  and  wet 
weather,  and  this  is  good  husbandry  for  moist 
grounds  ;  but  where  the  land  lies  high,  and  is 
hot  and  gravelly,  I  prefer  the  lower  fencing ; 
which,  though  even  with  the  area  itself,  may  be 
protected  with  stakes  and  a  dry  hedge  on  the 
foss  side,  the  distance  competent,  and  to  very 
good  purposes  of  educating  more  frequent  tim- 
ber amongst  the  rows. 

Your  hedge  being  yet  young  should  be  con- 
stantly weeded  two  or  three  years,  especially 
before  mid-summer,  of  brambles,  the  great  dock, 
lo 


2QO  abe  (SarDen 


thistle,  etc.,  though  some  admit  not  of  this 
work  till  after  Michaelmas,  for  reasons  that  I 
approve  not.  It  has  been  the  practice  of  Here- 
fordshire, in  the  plantation  of  quickset  hedges, 
to  plant  a  crab-stock  at  every  twenty  feet  dis- 
tance ;  and  this  they  observe  so  religiously,  as 
if  they  had  been  under  some  rigorous  statute 
requiring  it.  And  by  this  means  they  were  pro- 
vided in  a  short  time  with  all  the  advantages 
for  the  graffing  of  fruit  amongst  them,  which 
does  highly  recompense  their  industry.  Some 
cut  their  sets  at  three  years'  growth,  even  to  the 
very  ground,  and  find  that  in  a  year  or  two  they 
will  have  shot  as  much  as  in  the  seven,  had 
they  been  let  alone. 

When  your  hedge  is  now  of  near  six  years' 
stature,  plash  it  about  February  or  October ; 
but  this  is  the  work  of  a  very  dexterous  and 
skilful  husbandman,  and  for  which  our  honest 
countryman,  Mr.  Markham,  gives  excellent 
directions  ;  only  I  approve  not  so  well  of  his 
deep  cutting  the  stems,  if  it  be  possible  to  bend 
them,  having  suffered  in  something  of  that 
kind.  It  is  almost  incredible  to  what  perfec- 
tion some  have  laid  these  hedges  by  the  rural 
way  of  plashing,  better  than  by  clipping  ;  yet 
may  both  be  used  for  ornament,  as  where  they 
are  planted  about  our  garden  fences,  and  fields 
near  the  mansion.  In  Scotland,  by  tying  the 


3obn  jevelgn  291 


young  shoots  with  bands  of  hay,  they  make 
the  stems  grow  so  very  close  together,  as  that 
it  encloseth  rabbits  in  warrens  instead  of  pales  ; 
and  for  this  robust  use  we  shall  prefer  the  black 
thorn  ;  the  extravagant  suckers,  which  are  apt 
to  rise  at  a  distance  from  the  hedge  line,  being 
sedulously  extirpated,  that  the  rest  may  grow 
the  stronger  and  thicker. 

And  now  since  I  did  mention  it,  and  that 
most  I  find  do  greatly  affect  the  vulgar  way 
of  quicking  (that  this  our  discourse  being  in 
nothing  deficient),  we  will  in  brief  give  it  you 
again  after  George  Markham's  description,  be- 
cause it  is  the  best  and  most  accurate,  although 
much  resembling  our  former  direction,  of  which 
it  seems  but  a  repetition,  till  he  comes  to  the 
plashing.  In  ground  which  is  more  dry  than 
wet  (for  watery  places  it  abhors),  plant  your 
quick  thus  :  Let  the  first  rows  of  sets  be  placed 
in  a  trench  of  about  half  a  foot  deep,  even  with 
the  top  of  your  ditch,  in  somewhat  a  sloping  or 
inclining  posture  ;  then,  having  raised  your  bank 
near  a  foot  upon  them,  plant  another  row,  so  as 
their  tops  may  just  peep  out  over  the  middle  of 
the  spaces  of  your  first  row.  These  covered 
again  to  the  height  or  thickness  of  the  other, 
place  a  third  rank  opposite  to  the  first,  and  then 
finish  your  bank  to  its  intended  height.  The 
distances  of  the  plants  should  not  be  above  one 


292  ftbe  <3atfcen 


foot ;  and  the  season  to  do  the  work  in  may  be 
from  the  entry  of  February  till  the  end  of 
March,  or  else  in  September  to  the  beginning 
of  December.  When  this  is  finished,  you  must 
guard  both  the  top  of  your  bank,  and  outmost 
verge  of  your  ditch,  with  a  sufficient  dry  hedge, 
interwoven  from  stake  to  stake  into  the  earth, 
which  commonly  they  do  on  the  bank  to  secure 
your  quick  from  the  spoil  of  cattle.  And  then, 
being  careful  to  repair  such  as  decay,  or  do  not 
spring,  by  supplying  the  dead  and  trimming 
the  rest,  you  shall,  after  three  years'  growth, 
sprinkle  some  trees  amongst  them,  such  as  oak, 
beech,  ash,  maple,  fruit,  and  the  like  ;  which, 
being  drawn  young  out  of  your  nurseries,  may 
be  very  easily  inserted. 

I  am  not,  in  the  meantime,  ignorant  of  what 
is  said  against  the  scattering  these  masts  and 
keys  among  our  fences  ;  which  grown,  overtop 
the  subnascent  hedge,  and  prejudice  it  with 
their  shade  and  drip.  But  this  might  be  pre- 
vented by  planting  hollies,  proof  against  these 
impediments,  in  the  line  or  trench  where  you 
would  raise  standards,  as  far  as  they  usually 
spread  in  many  years,  and  which,  if  placed  at 
good  distances,  how  close  soever  to  the  stem, 
would,  besides  their  stout  defence,  prove  a  won- 
drous decoration  to  large  and  ample  enclosures. 
But  to  resume  our  former  work,  That  which 


Jobn  J&velvn  293 


we  affirmed  to  require  the  greatest  dexterity,  is 
the  artificial  plashing  of  our  hedge,  when  it  is 
arrived  at  a  six  or  seven  years'  head  ;  though 
some  stay  till  the  tenth,  or  longer.  In  Febru- 
ary, therefore,  or  October,  with  a  very  sharp 
handbill  cut  away  all  superfluous  sprays  and 
stragglers,  which  may  hinder  your  progress  and 
are  useless.  Then  searching  out  the  principal 
stems,  with  a  keen  and  light  hatchet  cut  them 
slantwise,  close  to  the  ground,  hardly  three 
quarters  through,  or  rather  so  far  only  as  till 
you  can  make  them  comply  handsomely,  which 
is  your  best  direction,  lest  you  rift  the  stem,  and 
so  lay  it  from  your  sloping  as  you  go,  folding  in 
the  lesser  branches  which  spring  from  them  ; 
and  ever  within  five  or  six  feet  distance,  where 
you  find  an  upright  set  (cutting  off  only  the 
top  to  the  height  of  your  intended  hedge),  let  it 
stand  as  a  stake  to  fortify  your  work,  and  to  re- 
ceive the  twinings  of  those  branches  about  it. 
lastly,  at  the  top  (which  should  be  about  five 
feet  above  ground),  take  the  longest,  most  slen- 
der, and  flexible  twigs  which  you  reserved,  and 
(being  cut  as  the  former,  where  need  requires) 
bind  in  the  extremities  of  all  the  rest ;  and  thus 
your  work  is  finished.  This  being  done  very 
close  and  thick,  makes  an  impregnable  hedge 
in  a  few  years ;  for  it  may  be  repeated  as  you 
see  occasion  ;  and  what  you  so  cut  away  will 


ttbe  (Barren 


help  to  make  your  dry  hedges  for  your  young 
plantations,  or  be  profitable  for  the  oven,  and 
make  good  bavin.  There  are  some  yet  who 
would  have  no  stakes  cut  from  the  trees,  save 
here  and  there  one,  so  as  to  leave  half  the  head 
naked,  and  the  other  standing  ;  but  the  over- 
hanging boughs  will  kill  what  is  under  them, 
and  ruin  the  tree,  so  pernicious  is  this  half- 
topping  ;  let  this  be  a  total  amputation  for  a 
new  and  lusty  spring.  There  is  nothing  more 
prejudicial  to  subnascent  young  trees  than, 
when  newly  trimmed  and  pruned,  to  have  their 
(as  yet  raw)  wounds  poisoned  with  continual 
dripping,  as  is  well  observed  by  Mr.  Nourse  ; 
but  this  is  meant  of  repairing  decayed  hedges. 
For  stakes  in  the  above  work,  oak  is  to  be  pre- 
ferred, though  some  will  use  elder,  but  it  is  not 
good,  or  the  blackthorn  and  crab-tree  ;  in  moor- 
ish ground  withy,  ash,  maple,  and  hazel,  but 
not  lasting,  driven  well  in  at  every  yard  of 
interval,  both  before  and  after  they  are  bound, 
till  they  have  taken  the  hard  earth,  and  are 
very  fast ;  and  even  your  plashed  hedges  need 
some  small  thorns  to  be  laid  over  to  protect  the 
spring  from  cattle  and  sheep  till  they  are  some- 
what fortified,  and  the  doubler  the  winding  is 
lodged  the  better,  which  should  be  beaten,  and 
forced  down  together  with  the  stakes  as  equally 
as  may  be.  Note  that  in  sloping  your  windings, 


5obn 


if  it  be  too  low  done,  as  very  usually,  it  fre- 
quently mortifies  the  tops  ;  therefore  it  ought 
to  be  so  bent  as  it  may  not  impede  the  mount- 
ing of  the  sap.  If  the  plash  be  of  a  great  and 
extraordinary  age,  wind  it  at  the  nether  boughs 
altogether,  and  cutting  the  sets  as  directed, 
permit  it  rather  to  hang  downwards  a  little 
than  rise  too  forwards  ;  and  then  twist  the 
branches  into  the  work,  leaving  a  set  free  and 
unconstrained  at  every  yard  space,  besides  such 
as  will  serve  for  stakes,  abated  to  about  five  feet 
in  length  (which  is  a  competent  stature  for  a 
hedge),  and  so  let  it  stand.  One  shall  often 
find  in  this  work,  especially  in  old  neglected 
hedges,  some  great  trees  or  stubs  that  com- 
monly make  gaps  for  cattle  ;  such  should  be 
cut  so  near  the  earth  as  till  you  can  lay  them 
thwart,  that  the  top  of  one  may  rest  on  the  root 
or  stub  of  the  other,  as  far  as  they  extend,  stop- 
ping the  cavities  with  its  boughs  and  branches  ; 
and  thus  hedges,  which  seem  to  consist  but  only 
of  scrubby  trees  and  stumps,  may  be  reduced  to 
a  tolerable  fence  ;  but  in  case  it  be  superannu- 
ated and  very  old,  it  is  advisable  to  stub  all  up, 
being  quite  renewed  and  well  guarded.  We 
have  been  the  longer  on  these  descriptions, 
because  it  is  of  main  importance,  and  that  so 
few  husbandmen  are  so  perfectly  skilled  in  it  ; 
but  he  that  would  be  more  fully  satisfied,  I 


296  Gbe  <Barfcen 


would  have  him  consult  Mr.  Cook,  chapter 
xxxii.,  or  rather,  instar  omnium,  what  I  can- 
not, without  injury  to  the  public  and  ingratitude 
to  the  persons  who  do  me  the  honor  of  impart- 
ing to  me  their  experiences,  but  freely  com- 
municate. 

The  root  of  an  old  thorn  is  excellent  both  for 
boxes  and  combs,  and  is  curiously  and  naturally 
wrought.  I  have  read  that  they  made  ribs  to 
some  small  boats  or  vessels  with  the  white- 
thorn ;  and  it  is  certain  that  if  they  were  plant- 
ed single,  and  in  standards,  where  they  might 
be  safe,  they  would  rise  into  large-bodied  trees 
in  time,  and  be  of  excellent  use  for  the  turner, 
not  inferior  to  box.  It  was  accounted  among 
the  fortunate  trees,  and  therefore  used  in  fasces 
nuptiarum,  since  the  jolly  shepherds  carried  the 
white-thorn  at  the  rape  of  the  Sabines. 

The  distilled  water,  and  stone,  or  kernels  of 
the  haw  reduced  to  powder,  is  generally  agreed 
to  be  sovereign  against  the  stone.  The  black 
crab,  rightly  seasoned  and  treated,  is  famous 
for  walking-staves,  and,  if  overgrown,  is  used  in 
mill-work  ;  yea,  and  for  rafters  of  great  ships. 
Here  we  owe  due  eulogy  to  the  industry  of  the 
late  Lord  Shaftesbury,  who  has  taught  us  to 
make  such  enclosures  of  crab-stocks  only, 
planted  close  to  one  another,  as  there  is  noth- 
ing more  impregnable  or  becoming  ;  or  you 


Jobn  j&veivn  297 


may  sow  cider-kernels  in  a  rill,  and  fence  it  for 
a  while  with  a  double  dry  hedge,  not  only  for  a 
sudden  and  beautiful,  but  a  very  profitable,  en- 
closure ;  because,  amongst  other  benefits,  they 
will  yield  you  cider-fruit  in  abundance.  But 
in  Devonshire  they  build  two  walls  with  their 
stones,  setting  them  edgeways,  two,  and  then 
one  between  ;  and  so  as  it  rises,  fill  the  interval, 
or  coffer,  with  earth  (the  breadth  and  height  as 
you  please),  continuing  the  stonework  and 
filling  ;  and  as  you  work,  beating  in  the  stones 
flat  to  the  sides,  they  are  made  to  stick  ever- 
lastingly. This  is  absolutely  the  neatest,  most 
saving,  and  profitable  fencing  imaginable,  where 
slaty  stones  are  in  any  abundance  ;  and  it  be- 
comes not  only  the  most  secure  to  the  lands, 
but  the  best  for  cattle,  to  lie  warm  under  the 
walls  ;  whilst  other  hedges,  be  they  ever  so 
thick,  admit  of  some  cold  winds  in  winter-time 
when  the  leaves  are  off.  Upon  these  banks 
they  plant  not  only  quicksets,  but  even  timber- 
trees,  which  exceedingly  thrive,  being  out  of 
all  danger. 

THE  PYRACANTHA  AND  PAUURUS. 

The  Pyracanthay  Paliurus,  *    and  like    pre- 
ciouser  sorts  of  thorn  and  robust   evergreens 

*  The  Paliurus  is  supposed  to  be  the  plant  that  com- 
posed the  crown  that   was  placed  upon  the  head  of 


298  abe  (BarDen 


adorned  with  caralin  berries,  might  easily  be 
propagated  by  seeds,  layers,  or  cuttings,  into 
plenty  sufficient  to  store  even  these  vulgar  uses, 
were  men  industrious  ;  and  then  how  beautiful 
and  sweet  would  the  environs  of  our  fields  be  ! 
for  there  are  none  of  the  spinous  shrubs  more 
hardy,  none  that  make  a  more  glorious  show, 
nor  fitter  for  our  defence,  competently  armed, 
especially  the  Rhamnus,  which  I  therefore  join 
to  the  Oxyacantha,  for  its  terrible  and  almost 
irresistible  spines,  able  almost  to  pierce  a  coat  of 
mail ;  and  for  this  made  use  of  by  the  malicious 
Jews  to  crown  the  sacred  temples  of  our 
Blessed  Saviour,  and  is  yet  preserved  among  the 

Christ  at  his  crucifixion  ;  but  Dr.  Haselquist,  who  had 
great  opportunities  of  examining  the  plants  of  the  Holy 
L,and,  is  of  opinion  that  it  was  a  species  of  Zizyphus, 
which  grows  in  great  plenty  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Jerusalem.  It  is  a  very  thorny  plant,  and  is  called  by 
I^innaeus,  Rhamnus  aculeis  geminatis  rectis,  foliis  ovatis, 
Sp.  PI.  282.  The  learned  Dr.  Pearce,  late  I^ord  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  sees  the  whole  of  this  transaction  in  a  very 
different  light.  And  as  his  own  words  will  best  explain 
his  opinion,  I  shall  here  transcribe  them  from  his  most 
excellent  work,  entitled  "  A  Commentary  upon  the 
Four  Evangelists." 

"  The  aKavOw  may  as  well  be  the  plural  genitive  case 
of  the  word  a/cai/0<os  as  of  <wcai>0ij  ;  if  of  the  latter,  it  is 
rightly  translated  of  thorns ,  but  the  former  word  signi- 
fies what  we  call  bear's-foot,  and  the  French  branche 
ursine.  This  is  not  of  the  thorny  kind  of  plants,  but  is 
soft  and  smooth.  Virgil  calls  it  mollis  acanthus  (Kcl. ,  iii., 
45,  andGeorg.,  iv.,  137) ;  so  does  Pliny,  Sec.  Epist. ,  v.,  6  ; 
and  Pliny  the  elder,  in  his  Nat.  Hist.,  xxii.,  22  (p.  277, 
Edit.  Hard  .fol.),  says  that  it  is  l&vi's,  smooth,  and  that  it 
is  one  of  those  plants  which  are  cultivated  in  gardens.  I 
have  somewhere  read  (but  cannot  at  present  recollect 
where)  that  this  soft  and  smooth  herb  was  very  common 


Jobn  jEvelEtt  299 


most  venerable  relics  in  Sainte  Chapelle  at 
Paris,  as  is  pretended  by  the  devotees,  etc., 
and  hence  has  the  tree  (for  it  sometimes 
exceeds  a  shrub)  the  name  of  Chris? s  thorn. 
Thus  might  barberries  now  and  then  be  also 
inserted  among  our  hedges,  which  with  the 
hips,  haws,  and  cornel-berries,  do  well  in 
light  lands,  and  should  rather  be  planted  to 
the  south  than  north  of  west,  as  usually  we 
observe  them. 

Some,  as  we  noted,  mingle  their  very  hedges 
with  oaklings,  ash,  and  fruit-trees,  sown  or 
planted,  and  it  is  a  laudable  improvement ; 
though  others  do  rather  recommend  to  us  sets  of 

in  and  about  Jerusalem.  I  find  nothing1  in  the  New 
Testament  said  concerning-  this  crown  which  Pilate's 
soldiers  put  upon  the  head  of  Jesus,  to  incline  one 
to  think  that  it  was  made  of  thorns,  and  intended  (as  is 
usually  supposed)  to  put  him  to  pain.  The  reed  put  into 
his  hand,  and  the  scarlet  robe  on  his  back,  were  only 
meant  as  marks  of  mockery  and  contempt.  One  may 
also  reasonably  judge  by  the  soldiers  being  said  to  plait 
this  crown,  that  it  was  not  composed  of  such  twigs  and 
leaves  as  were  of  a  thorny  nature.  I  do  not  find  that  it  is 
mentioned  by  any  of  the  primitive  Christian  writers  as 
an  instance  of  the  cruelty  used  towards  our  Saviour  be- 
fore he  was  led  to  his  crucifixion,  till  the  time  of  Tertul- 
lian,  who  lived  after  Jesus'  death  at  the  distance  of 
about  one  hundred  and  sixty  years.  He  indeed  seems  to 
have  understood  aKavQuv  in  the  sense  of  thorns,  and  says, 
De  Coron.  Milit.,  sect.  xiv.  (Edit.  Pomel.  Franck.  1597), 
guale,  oro  te,  Jesus  Christus  sertum  pro  utraquesexu  subtit  ? 
Ex  spinis,  opinor,  et  tribulis.  The  total  silence  of  Poly- 
carp,  Barnabas,  Clem.  Romanus,  and  all  the  other 
Christian  writers  whose  works  are  now  extant  and  who 
wrote  before  Tertullian,  in  this  particular,  will  give 
some  weight  to  incline  one  to  think  that  this  crown  was 
not  plaited  with  thorns."— Vol.  1,  p.  196.  Ed,  1777. 


300  tTbe  (Barfcen 


all  one  sort,  and  will  not  so  much  as  admit  of 
the  blackthorn  to  be  mingled  with  the  white,  be- 
cause of  their  unequal  progress  ;  and,  indeed, 
timber  trees  set  in  the  hedge  (though  contem- 
poraries with  it)  do  frequently  wear  it  out :  and 
therefore  I  should  rather  encourage  such  plan- 
tations to  be  at  some  yards'  distance,  near  the 
verges,  than  perpendicularly  in  them.  Lastly, 
if  in  planting  any  of  the  most  robust  forest- 
trees  (especially  oak,  elm,  chestnut)  at  compe- 
tent spaces,  and  in  rows,  you  open  a  ring  of 
ground  at  about  four  feet  distance  from  the 
stem,  and  prick  in  quickset  plants,  you  may, 
after  a  while,  keep  them  clipped,  at  what 
height  you  please.  They  will  appear  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  to  the  eye,  prove  a  good 
fence,  and  yield  useful  bush,  bavin,  and  (if 
you  maintain  them  unshorn)  hips  and  haws 
in  abundance ;  this  should  therefore  be  es- 
pecially practised,  where  one  would  invite  the 
birds. 

In  Cornwall  they  secure  their  lands  and 
woods  with  high  mounds,  and  on  them  they 
plant  acorns,  whose  roots  bind  in  the  looser 
mould,  and  so  form  a  double  and  most  durable 
fence,  encircling  the  fields  with  a  coronet  of 
trees.  They  do  likewise,  and  with  great  com- 
mendation, make  hedges  of  our  Genista  spino- 
sa,  prickly  furze,  of  which  they  have  a  taller 


Jobn  Bvelgtt  301 


sort,  such  as  the  French  employ  for  the  same 
purpose  in  Bretagne,  where  they  are  incom- 
parable husbands. 

FURZE. 

Furze  is  to  be  sown  (which  is  best)  or  planted 
of  the  roots  in  a  furrow.  If  sown,  weed  till  it 
be  strong,  both  tonsile,  and  to  be  diligently 
clipped,  which  will  render  it  a  very  thick, 
excellent,  and  beautiful  hedge ;  otherwise  per- 
mitted to  grow  at  large,  it  will  yield  very  good 
fagot ;  it  is  likewise  admirable  covert  for  wild 
fowl,  and  will  be  made  to  grow  even  in  moist  as 
well  as  dry  places.  The  young  and  tender  tops 
of  furze,  being  a  little  bruised,  and  given  to  a 
lean,  sickly  horse,  will  strangely  recover  and 
plump  him.  Thus,  in  some  places,  when  they 
lay  down  their  barren  grounds,  they  sow  the 
last  crop  with  this  seed,  and  so  let  them  remain 
till  they  break  them  up  again,  and,  during  that 
interim,  reap  real  advantage.  Would  you  be- 
lieve (writes  a  worthy  correspondent  of  mine) 
that  in  Herefordshire,  famous  for  plenty  of 
wood,  their  thickets  of  furzes,  viz.,  the  vulgar, 
should  yield  them  more  profit  than  a  like 
quantity  of  the  best  wheat  land  of  England  ? 
for  such  is  theirs.  If  this  be  questioned,  the 
scene  is  within  a  mile  of  Hereford,  and  proved 
by  anniversary  experience,  in  the  lands,  as  I 


302  Gbe  <3arfcen 


take  it,  of  a  gentleman  who  is  now  one  of  the 
burgesses  for  that  city.  And  in  Devonshire 
(the  seat  of  the  best  husbands  in  the  world) 
they  sow  on  their  worst  land,  well  ploughed, 
the  seeds  of  the  rankest  furzes,  which,  in  four 
or  five  years,  becomes  a  rich  wood  ;  no  proven- 
der, as  we  say,  makes  horses  so  hardy  as  the 
young  tops  of  these  furzes ;  no  other  wood  so 
thick,  nor  more  excellent  fuel ;  and  for  some 
purposes  also,  yielding  them  a  kind  of  timber 
to  their  more  humble  buildings,  and  a  great 
refuge  for  fowl  and  other  game.  I  am  assured 
in  Bretagne  it  is  sometimes  sown  no  less  than 
twelve  yards  thick,  for  a  speedy,  profitable,  and 
impenetrable  mound  ;  if  we  imitated  this  hus- 
bandry in  the  dry  and  hot  barren  places  of 
Surrey,  and  other  parts  of  this  nation,  we  might 
exceedingly  spare  our  woods.  I  have  bought 
the  best  sort  of  French  seed  at  the  shops  in 
London.  It  seems  that  in  the  more  eastern 
parts  of  Germany,  and  especially  in  Poland, 
this  vulgar  trifle,  and  even  our  common  broom, 
is  so  rare  that  they  have  desired  the  seeds  of 
them  out  of  England,  and  preserve  them  with 
extraordinary  care  in  their  best  gardens.  This 
I  learn  out  of  Johnson's  "Herbal,"  by  which 
we  may  consider  that  what  is  reputed  a  curse 
and  a  cumber  in  one  place,  is  often  esteemed  au 


Jobn  iBvelvn  303 


ornament  and  a  blessing  in  another  ;  but  we 
shall  not  need  go  so  far  for  this,  since  both  beech 
and  birch  are  almost  as  great  strangers  in  many 
parts  of  this  nation,  particularly  Northampton 
and  Oxfordshire.  Mr.  Cook  says  much  in 
praise  of  juniper  hedges,  especially  for  the 
more  elegant  enclosures. 

BROOM. 

Genista  scoparia.  —  Broom.  This  is  another 
improvement  for  barren  grounds,  and  saver 
of  more  substantial  fuel.  It  may  be  sown 
English,  or  (what  is  more  sweet  and  beautiful) 
Spanish,  with  equal  success.  In  the  western 
parts  of  France,  and  with  us  in  Cornwall,  it 
grows  to  an  incredible  height  (however  our 
poet  gives  it  the  epithet  of  humilis),  and  so  it 
seems  they  had  it  of  old,  as  appears  by  Gratius' 
genista  altinates^  with  which,  as  he  affirms, 
they  used  to  make  staves  for  their  spears  and 
hunting  darts.  The  seeds  of  broom  vomit  and 
purge,  whilst  the  buds  and  flowers,  being  pic- 
kled, are  very  grateful. 


Sambucus.  —  The  elder.  This  makes  a  con- 
siderable fence,  if  set  of  reasonably  lusty 
truncheons,  much  like  the  willow,  and  (as  I 


304 


have  seen  them  maintained)  laid  with  great 
curiosity ;  these  far  excel  those  extravagant 
plantations  of  them  about  London,  where  the 
lops  are  permitted  to  grow  without  due  and 
skilful  laying.  There  is  a  sort  of  elder  which 
has  hardly  any  pith  ;  this  makes  exceedingly 
stout  fences,  and  the  timber  is  very  useful  for 
cogs  of  mills,  butchers'  skewers,  and  such 
tough  employments.  Old  trees  do  in  time  be- 
come firm,  and  close  up  the  hollowness  to  an 
almost  invisible  pith.  But  if  the  medicinal 
properties  of  the  leaves,  bark,  berries,  etc., 
were  thoroughly  known,  I  cannot  tell  what  our 
countrymen  would  ail,  for  which  he  might  not 
fetch  a  remedy  from  every  hedge,  either  for 
sickness  or  wound.  The  inner  bark  of  elder, 
applied  to  any  burning,  takes  out  the  fire 
immediately;  that,  or  in  season  the  buds, 
boiled  in  water-gruel  for  a  breakfast,  has 
effected  wonders  in  a  fever  ;  and  the  decoction 
is  admirable  to  assuage  inflammations  and  tet- 
terous  humors,  and  especially  the  scorbut.  But 
an  extract,  or  theriaca  (so  famous  in  the  poem 
of  Nicander),  may  be  composed  of  the  berries, 
which  is  not  only  efficacious  to  eradicate  this 
epidemical  inconvenience,  and  greatly  to  assist 
longevity,  but  is  a  kind  of  catholicon  against 
all  infirmities  whatever  ;  and  of  the  same  ber- 
ries is  made  an  incomparable  spirit,  which, 


3obn  JEvelyn  305 


drunk  by  itself,  or  mingled  with  wine,  is  not 
only  an  excellent  drink,  but  admirable  in  the 
dropsy.  In  a  word,  the  water  of  the  leaves  and 
berries  is  approved  in  the  dropsy,  every  part  of 
the  tree  being  useful,  as  may  be  seen  at  large  in 
Blocwitzius'  Anatomy  thereof.  The  ointment 
made  with  the  young  buds  and  leaves  in  May 
with  butter,  is  most  sovereign  for  aches,  shrunk 
sinews,  haemorrhoids,  etc.,  and  the  flowers 
macerated  in  vinegar,  not  only  are  of  a  grateful 
relish,  but  good  to  attenuate  and  cut  raw  and 
gross  humors.  Lastly,  the  fungus  (which  we 
call  Jews'-ears)  decocted  in  milk,  or  macerated 
in  vinegar,  is  of  known  effect  in  the  angina  and 
sores  of  the  throat.  And  less  than  this  I  could 
not  say  (with  the  leave  of  the  charitable  phy- 
sician) to  gratify  our  poor  woodman  ;  and  yet 
when  I  have  said  all  this,  I  do  by  no  means 
commend  the  scent  of  it,  which  is  very  noxious 
to  the  air  ;  and  therefore,  though  I  do  not  un- 
dertake that  all  things  which  sweeten  the  air 
are  salubrious,  nor  all  ill  savors  pernicious,  yet, 
as  not  for  its  beauty,  so  neither  for  its  smell, 
would  I  plant  elder  near  my  habitation  ;  since 
we  learn  from  Biesius  that  a  certain  house  in 
Spain,  seated  among  many  elder  trees,  diseased 
and  killed  almost  all  the  inhabitants,  which, 
when  at  last  they  were  grubbed  up,  became  a 
very  wholesome  and  healthy  place.  The  elder 


so6  ftbe  (Barren 


does  likewise  produce  a  certain  green  fly, 
almost  invisible,  which  is  exceedingly  trouble- 
some, and  gathers  a  fiery  redness  where  it 
attacks. 


Evonymus.  —  Spindle.-tree.  This  is  a  shrub 
which  commonly  grows  in  our  hedges,  and 
bears  a  very  hard  wood,  of  which  they  some- 
times make  bows  for  viols,  and  the  inlayer  uses 
it  for  his  color,  and  instrument-makers  for 
toothing  of  organs,  and  virginal  keys,*  tooth- 
pickers,  etc.  What  we  else  would  do  with  it  I 
know  not,  save  that  (according  to  its  name 
abroad)  they  make  spindles  with  it.  I  also 
learn  that  three  or  four  of  the  berries  purge 
both  by  vomit  and  siege,  and  the  powder,  made 
of  the  berry,  being  baked,  kills  nits,  and  cures 
scurfy  heads.  Matthiolus  says  the  poor  people 
about  Trent  press  oil  out  of  the  berries  where- 
with to  feed  their  lamps.  But  why  they  were 
wont  to  scourge  parricides  with  rods  made  of 
this  shrub,  before  they  put  them  into  the  sack, 
see  Modestinus,  L.  penult.  SS.  ad  Leg  em  Pomp. 
de  Parricid  ;  cited  by  Mr.  Ray. 

*  Mr.  Evelyn  subsequently  refers  to  the  virginals  as  a 
musical  instrument  played  on  by  young  ladies  in  his 
time.  It  was  made  like  the  harpsichord,  and  was  played, 
upon  by  the  fingers, 


Jobn  BvelBtt  307 


DOGWOOD. 

Here  might  come  in,  or  be  named,  at  least, 
wild  cornel,  or  dogwood,  good  to  make  mill- 
cogs,  pestles,  bobbins  for  bone-lace,  spokes  for 
wheels,  etc.  ;  also  the  best  skewers  for  butchers, 
because  it  does  not  taint  the  flesh,  and  is  of  so 
very  hard  a  substance  as  to  make  wedges  to 
cleave  and  rive  other  wood  instead  of  iron. 

VIBURNUM. 

The  viburnum,  or  wayfaring  tree,  growing 
plentifully  in  every  corner,  makes  pins  for  the 
yokes  of  oxen  ;  and  superstitious  people  think 
that  it  protects  their  cattle  from  being  be- 
witched, and  place  the  shrub  about  their  stalls  ; 
it  certainly  makes  the  most  pliant  and  best 
bands  to  fagot  with.  The  leaves  and  berries  are 
astringent,  and  make  an  excellent  gargle  for 
loose  teeth,  sore-throat,  and  stop  fluxes.  The 
leaves  decocted  to  a  lye  not  only  color  the  hair 
black,  but  fasten  the  roots  ;  and  the  bark  of  the 
root,  macerated  under  ground,  well  beaten,  and 
often  boiled,  serves  for  bird-lime. 

YUCCA. 

The  American  yucca  is  a  hardier  plant  than 
we  take  it  to  be,  for  it  will  suffer  our  sharpest 


308  Gbe  (Barren 


winter,  as  I  have  seen  by  experience,  without 
that  trouble  and  care  of  setting  it  in  cases  in  our 
conservatories  of  hiemation.  Such  as  nave  be- 
held it  in  flower  (which  is  not  indeed  till  it  be 
of  some  age)  must  needs  admire  the  beauty  of  it ; 
and  it  being  easily  multiplied,  why  should  it  not 
make  one  of  the  best  and  most  ornamental 
fences  in  the  world  for  our  gardens,  with  its 
natural  palisadoes,  as  well  as  the  more  tender 
and  impatient  of  moisture,  the  aloe,  does  for 
their  vineyards  in  lyanguedoc  ?  But  we  believe 
nothing  improvable,  save  what  our  grand- 
fathers taught  us.  Finally,  let  trial  likewise  be 
made  of  that  thorn  mentioned  by  Captain  L,ig- 
gon  in  his  "  History  of  Barbadoes,"  whether  it 
would  not  be  made  to  grow  amongst  us,  and 
prove  as  convenient  for  fences  as  there,  the 
seeds  or  sets  being  transported  to  us  with  due 
care.  Having  thus  accomplished  what,  by  your 
commands,  I  had  to  offer  concerning  the  propa- 
gation of  the  more  solid  material  and  useful 
trees,  as  well  the  dry  as  the  aquatical,  and,  to  the 
best  of  my  talent,  fenced  our  plantation  in,  I 
should  here  conclude,  and  set  a  bound  likewise 
to  my  discourse,  by  making  an  apology  for  the 
many  errors  and  impertinencies  of  it,  did  not 
the  zeal  and  ambition  of  this  illustrious  society 
to  promote  and  improve  all  attempts  which 
may  concern  public  utility  or  ornament,  per- 


Jobn 


309 


suade  me,  that  what  I  am  adding  for  the  further 
encouragement  to  the  planting  of  some  other 
useful  (though  less  vulgar)  trees  will  at  least 
obtain  your  pardon,  if  it  miss  of  your  approba- 
tion. 

B  (Quincunx. 

FROM  THE  "GARDENS  OF  CYRUS." 


(Sluto  quincunce  specfosus 
(Slut,  in  quicunque 
Spectaveds,  rectus  est  ? 

pJJINCTILIAN. 


Iknicfcerbocfcer 


NUGG«Y — "  A   diminutive  mass  of    precious  metal." 

41  Little  gems  of  bookmaking."— Commercial  Gazette^  Cin- 
zinnati. 

u  For  many  a  long  day  nothing  has  been  thought  out  or 
worked  out  so  sure  to  prove  entirely  pleasing  to  cultured 
book-lovers."  —  The  Bookmaker. 

I — Gesta  Romanorum.  Tales  of  the  old 
monks.  Edited  by  C.  SWAN  .  .  .  $i  oo 

4i  This  little  gem  is  a-  Collection  of  stories  composed  by  the 
iMonks  of  old,  who  wtre  in  the  custom  of  relating  them  to 
each  other  after  r-io».ls  for  their  mutual  amusement  and  infor- 
mation."—  Williams^  Literary  Monthly. 

"  Nuggets  indeed,  and  charming  ones,  are  these  rescued 
irom  the  mint  of  old  Latin,  which  would  certainly  have  been 
lost  to  many  busy  readers  who  can  only  take  what  comes  to 
them  without  delving  for  hidden  treasures." 

II— Headlong  Hall  and  Nightmare  Abbey. 
By  THOMAS  LOVE  PEACOCK  .  .  .  $i  oo 

"  It  must  hare  been  the  court  librarian  of  King  Oberon 
who  originally  ordered  the  series  of  quaintly  artistic  little 
volumes  that  Messrs.  Putnam  are  publishing  under  the  name 
of  Knickerbocker  Nuggets.  There  is  an  elfin  dignity  in  the 
aspect  of  these  books  in  their  bindings  of  dark  and  light  blue 
with  golden  arabesques." — Portland  Press. 

Ill — Gulliver's  Travels.  By  JONATHAN  SWIFT. 
A  reprint  of  the  early  complete  edition.  Very  fully 
illustrated.  Two  vols $2  50 

"  Messrs.  Putnam  have  done  a  substantial  service  to  all 
readers  of  English  classics  by  reprinting  in  two  dainty  and 
artistically  bound  volumes  those  biting  satires  of  Jonathaa 
Swift, 4  Gulliver's  Travel*.'  " 


1Ku00etb 


IV — Tales  from  Irving.  With  illustrations. 
Two  vols.  Selected  from  "  The  Sketch  Book," 
"Traveller,"  "  Wolfert's  Roost,"  "  Bracebridge 
Hall." $2  oo 

u  The  tales,  pathetic  and  thrilling  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
are  rendered  winsome  and  realistic  by  the  lifelike  portraitures 
which  profusely  illustrate  the  volumes.  .  .  .  We  confess  our 
high  appreciation  of  the  superb  manner  in  which  the  pub- 
lishers have  got  up  and  sent  forth  the  present  volumes — which 
are  real  treasures,  to  be  prized  for  their  unique  character."— 
Christian  Union. 

<k  Such  books  as  these  will  find  their  popularity  confined  to 
no  one  country,  but  they  must  be  received  with  enthusiasm 
wherever  art  and  literature  are  recognized." — Albany  Argus. 

V— Book  of  British  Ballads.  Edited  by  S. 
C.  HALL.  A  fac-simile  of  the  original  edition. 
With  illustrations  by  CRESWICK,  GILBERT,  and 
others  .  .  * $i  50 

"  This  is  a  diminutive  fac-simile  of  the  original  very  valu- 
able edition.  .  .  .  The  collection  is  not  only  the  most  com- 
plete and  reliable  that  has  been  published,  but  the  volume  is 
beautifully  illustrated  by  skilful  artists." — Pittsburg  Chron- 
icle. 

"  Probably  the  best  general  collection  of  our  ballad  litera- 
ture, in  moderate  compass,  that  has  yet  been  made." — Chi-' 
cago  Dial. 

VI — The    Travels    of  Baron    Miinchausen. 

Reprinted  from  the  early,  complete  edition.  Very 
fully  illustrated $i  25 

"  The  venerable  Baron  Miinchausen  in  his  long  life  has 
never  appeared  as  well-dressed,  so  far  as  we  know,  as  now  in 
this  goodly  company." 

'*  The  Baron's  stories  are  as  fascinating  as  the  Arabian 
Nights."— Church  Union. 


fmicfcerbocfcer 


VII — Letters,  Sentences,  and  Maxims.  By 
Lord  CHESTERFIELD.  With  a  critical  essay  by  C. 
A.  SAINTE-BEUVE $i  oo 

4f  Full  of  wise  things,  quaint  things,  witty  and  shrewd 
things,  and  the  maker  of  this  book  has  put  the  pick  of  them 
all  together." — London  World. 

14  Each  of  the  little  volumes  in  this  series  is  a  literary  gem." 
—Christian  at  Work. 

VIII— The  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  By  GOLD- 
SMITH.  With  32  illustrations  by  WILLIAM  MUL- 

READY $1    00 

u  Goldsmith's  charming  tale  seems  more  charming  than 
ever  in  the  dainty  dress  of  the  *  Knickerbocker  Nuggets ' 
series.  These  little  books  are  a  delight  to  the  eye,  and  their 
convenient  form  and  size  make  them  most  attractive  to  all 
book-lovers." — The  Writer,  Boston. 

41  A  gem  of  an  edition,  well  made,  printed  in  clear,  read- 
able type,  illustrated  with  spirit,  and  just  such  a  booklet  as, 
when  one  has  it  in  his  pocket,  makes  all  the  difference  be- 
tween solitude  and  loneliness." — Independent. 

IX — Lays  of  Ancient  Rome.  By  THOMAS 
BABINGTON  MACAULAY.  Illustrated  by  GEORGE 
SCHARF $t  oo 

44  The  poems  included  in  this  collection  are  too  well  known 
to  require  that  attention  should  be  drawn  to  them,  but  the 
beautiful  setting  which  they  receive  in  the  dainty  cover  and 
fine  workmanship  of  this  series  makes  it  a  pleasure  even  to 
handle  the  volume." — Yale  Literary  Magazine. 

X — The  Rose  and  the  Ring.  By  WTILLIAM  M. 
THACKERAY.  With  the  author's  illustrations.  $i  25 

41 4  The  Rose  and  the  Ring,'  by  Thackeray,  is  reproduced 
with  quaint  illustrations,  evidently  taken  from  the  author's 
own  handiwork,"— Rochester  Pcst-Exjress. 


fmfcfcerbocfcer 


XI — Irish  Melodies  and  Songs.  By  THOMAS 
MOORE.  Illustrated  by  MACLISE  .  .  $r  50 

u  The  latest  issue  is  a  collection  of  Thomas  Moore's  *  Irish 
Melodies  and  Songs/  fully  and  excellently  illustrated,  with 
each  page  of  the  text  printed  within  an  outline  border  of 
appropriate  green  tint,  embellished  with  emblems  and  figures 
fitting  the  text."— Boston  Times. 

XII — Undine  and  Sintram.  By  DE  LA  MOTTE 
FOUQUE.  Illustrated  .  .  .  .  $i  oo 

"  '  Undine  and  Sintram  '  are  the  latest  issue,  bound  in  one 
volume.  They  are  of  the  size  classics  should  be — pocket 
volumes, — and  nothing  more  desirable  is  to  be  found  among 
the  new  editions  of  old  treasures." — San  Jose  Mercury. 

XIII — The  Essays  of  Elia.  By  CHARLES 
LAMB.  Two  vols.  .  .  .  .  $2  oo 

"  The  genial  essayist  himself  could  have  dreamed  of  no 
more  beautiful  setting  than  the  Putnams  have  given  the  Es- 
says of  Elia  by  printing  them  among  their  Knickerbocker 
Nuggets." — Chicago  Advance. 

XIV— Tales    from  the   Italian    Poets.     By 

LEIGH  HUNT.     Two  vols.      .        .        .        $2  oo 

"  The  perfection  of  artistic  bookmaking." — San  Francisco 
Chronicle. 

44  This  work  is  most  delightful  literature,  which  finds  a  fit- 
ting place  in  this  collection,  bound  in  volumes  of  striking 
beauty."—  Troy  Times. 

"  Hunt  had  just  that  delightful  knowledge  of  the  Italian 
poets  that  one  would  most  desire  for  oneself,  together  with 
an  exquisite  style  of  his  own  wherein  to  make  his  presentation 
of  them  to  English  readers  perfect." — New  York  Critic. 

The  first  series,  comprising  the  foregoing 
eighteen  volumes,  in  handsome  case,  $19.00 


Ifcntcfeerbocfcer 


XV. — Thoughts  of  the  Emperor  Marcus 
Aurelius  Antoninus,  Translated  by  GEORGE 
LONG $i  oo 

14  The  thoughts  of  the  famous  Roman  are  worthy  of  a  new 
introduction  to  the  army  of  readers  through  a  volume  so 
dainty  and  pleasing." — Intelligencer. 

44  As  a  book  for  hard  study,  as  a  book  to  inspire  reverie,  as 
a  book  for  five  minutes  or  an  hour,  it  is  both  delightful  and 
profitable." — Journal  of  Education. 

4i  It  is  an  interesting  little  book,  and  we  feel  indebted  to  the 
translator  for  this  presentation  of  his  work." — Presbyterian. 

XVI. — JEsop's  Fables.  Rendered  chiefly  from 
original  sources.  By  Rev.  THOMAS  JAMES,  M.A. 
With  100  illustrations  of  JOHN  TENNIELL  .  $i  25 

11  It  is  wonderful  the  hold  these  parables  have  had  upon 
fhe  human  attention  ;  told  to  children,  and  yet  of  no  less 
interest  to  men  and  women." — Chautauqua  Herald. 

"  For  many  a  long  day  nothing  has  been  thought  out  or 
Worked  out  so  sure  to  prove  entirely  pleasing  to  cultured 
book-lovers." — The  Bookmaker. 

44  These  classic  studies  adorned  with  morals  were  never 
more  neatly  prepared  for  the  public  eye." — The  Milwaukee 
Wisconsin. 

XVII.— Ancient  Spanish  Ballads.  Historic 
and  Romantic.  Translated,  with  notes,  by  J.  G. 
JwOCKHART.  Reprinted  from  the  revised  edition 
of  1841,  with  60  illustrations  by  ALLAN,  ROBERTS, 
SIMSON,  WARREN,  AUBREY,  and  HARVEY  .  $i  50 

u  A  mass  of  popular  poetry  which  has  never  yet  received 
the  attention  to  which  it  is  entitled." — Boston  Journal  of 
Education. 

44  The  historical  and  artistic  settings  of  these  mediaeval 
poetic  gems  enhance  the  value  and  attractiveness  of  the 
book."— Buffalo  Chronicle  Advocate. 


Ifcnicfcerbocfcer  1ftu0get6 


XVIII.— The  Wit  and  Wisdom  of  Sydney 
Smith.  A  selection  of  the  most  memorable  pas- 
sages in  his  Writings  and  Conversations  .  $i  oo 

14  It  is  certainly  a  precious  nugget  that  is  presented  in  this 
issue,  and  the  busy  man  of  the  world  and  the  delving  student 
will  alike  find  occasion  for  blessing  the  compiler." — Utica 
Herald. 

XIX.— The  Ideals  of  the  Republic;  or, 
Great  Words  from  Great  Americans.  Com- 
prising:— "The  Declaration  of  Independence, 
1776."  "The  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
1779."  "  Washington's  Circular  Letter,  1783." 
"Washington's  First  Inaugural,  1789."  "Wash- 
ington's Second  Inaugural,  1793."  "  Washington's 
Farewell  Address."  "Lincoln's  First  Inaugural, 
1861."  "  Lincoln's  Second  Inaugural,  1865."  "Lin- 
coln's Gettysburg  Address,  1863."  .  .  $i  oo 

"  Such  a  book  ought  to  be  in  every  American  home.     It 
ought  to  meet  every  immigrant  to  these  shores.        . 
They  have  never  before  been  published  in  a  form  as  conven- 
ient and  elegant  as  that  of  this  volume." — Christian  Intelli- 
gencer. 

XX. — Selections  from  Thomas  De  Quincey. 

Comprising: — "On  Murder  Considered  as  One  of 
the  Fine  Arts."  "  Three  Memorable  Murders." 
"  The  Spanish  Nun "  .  .  .  .  $i  oo 

li  Strangers  to  his  works  will  find  in  this  compilation  a 
captivating  introduction  to  them." — Providence  Journal. 

"  All  the  delicacy  of  expression  and  felicity  of  arrangement 
familiar  to  the  reader  of  De  Quincey,  appear  here." — Water- 
town  Herald. 


imtcfcerbocfcer 


XXI.— Tales  by  Heinrich  Zschokke.  Com- 
prising: — "A  New  Year's  Eve."  "The  Broken 
Pitcher."  "Jonathan  Frock."  "A  Walpurgis  Night." 
Translated  by  PARKE  GODWIN  and  WILLIAM  P. 
PRENTICE.  .  $i  oo 

14  They  are  marked  by  an  easy  grace  of  manner,  purity  of 
language,  and  originality  of  conception,  and  have  a  most 
hearty  and  wholesome  flavor." — Public  Opinion. 

XXII.— American  War  Ballads.  A  selection 
of  the  more  noteworthy  of  the  Ballads  and  Lyrics 
which  were  produced  during  the  Revolution,  the 
War  of  1812,  the  Mexican  War,  and  the  Civil  War. 
Edited,  with  notes,  by  GEO.  GARY  EGGLESTON. 
With  original  illustrations.  2  vols.  .  $2  50 

XXIII.  —Songs  of  Fairy  Land.  Compiled  by 
EDWARD  T.  MASON,  with  illustrations  from  designs 
by  MAUD  HUMPHREY $i  25 

XXIV. — The  Autobiography  of  Benjamin 
Franklin.  Edited,  with  notes,  by  JOHN  BIGE- 

LOW $1   (X) 

XXV. — Sesame  and  Lilies.    By  JOHN  Rus- 

KIN $1   00 

XXVI. — The  Garden,  as  considered  in  literature 
by  certain  polite  writers.  Edited  by  WALTER  HOWE, 
with  portrait  of  William  Kent  .  .  $i  oo 
XXVII.— The  Boyhood  and  Youth  of  Goethe. 
Comprising  the  first  thirteen  books  of  his  Autobiog- 
raphy (Truth  and  Poetry  from  my  own  Life).  2 

$2  00 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  PUBLISHERS 
New  York  and  London 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

ENVIRONMENTAL  DESIGN 
LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


DEC  3  019GB 
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mm. 


4-^S- 

i^fA 


